


Naseba Naru

by ozsia



Series: Naseba Naru [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Character Death, Elemental Magic/ Dying Will Flames, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Racism, Sawada Iemitsu Bashing, Sealed Magic, Strong Female Characters, Structured Dying Will Flames Bonds, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames, Unlawful Arrest/ Imprisonment, Wizarding World Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsia/pseuds/ozsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Reborn First arrived at the Sawada Household he had been briefed to expect an absentminded mother and a useless pupil he would have to somehow mould into the Vongola Decimo. What he got? A fan-wielding vixen, a quietly spoken but strong charge and the man of the house that had a power Reborn couldn't comprehend and green eyes that could see straight through him. </p><p>What fun.</p><p>OR when Nana moves on from her absentee...husband, and starts living for herself and her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nana's Beginning

It was the greatest irony that Nana would meet the love of her life thanks to her son. When she wasn't looking. While she was still married to the father of the aforementioned son. Complicated? Oh yes.

To clarify, it wasn't a great marriage. Of course it wasn't an epic tale of woe and despair either; it wouldn't be read about in magazines with women shaking their heads and tutting, before using it as an example to their daughters about what  _not_ to do in a relationship.

In Nana's defence, six years and a son later... Nana was still a very unfulfilled woman: empty in the matters of the heart.

Looking back she had been foolish when she had first met Sawada Iemitsu. Nana had been a waitress at the time, serving tables to save money that would allow her to attend university, however all that had been put a stop to when her life had collided with his.

All of her dreams. Ambitions. Hopes for the future were done as soon as he sauntered up to her one night Nana had been working the late shift, all suggestive grins and whispered words. His hands had been like fire on her skin, burning and - at the time - arousing.

The romance Iemitsu had taken Nana on when she had hesitantly agreed to exchange numbers had been a whirlwind: fast, exciting. He had, unlike the few other man she had dated, swept her off of her feet.

So consumed with their relationship had she been, that when he purposed just half a year after they first started dating Nana couldn't bring herself to rationalise. Because there had been something -  _deep_ inside her belly that was simply _missing_  when Iemitsu wasn't around, a warmth gone when she was without him. So she had agreed.

Thinking at the tome that it had been love, thinking that he was her one and only.

The wedding was planned without her, paid for with foreign money. Nana had been driven a few miles outside of her home to a small chapel where he had waited for her, wearing an orange construction worker pullover, a pickaxe resting on his shoulder as he took her hand and led her down the bare aisle, passing rows and rows of empty seats. The only other person there being the priest.

Not a week later and they were travelling to a different part of Japan, where Iemitsu opened the door to an unfamiliar house Nana hadn't known he could afford. Away from the friends she had had since secondary school, and the family who still couldn't get over that she hadn't invited them to her wedding, that she  _herself_  hadn't known was happening until two hours before.

Soon after Nana found that she was expecting: a clear blue cross on her pregnancy test, she had rushed out of the bathroom into the arms of her doting husband. It was the one gift Iemitsu had ever truly gotten her, even if she had to ignore that small part of her mind still rebelling; telling her that it was too much, too soon.

However similarly to a whirlwind, once it had lost momentum only destruction lay in its wake: a path of ruin showing the route to her heart, where he had stepped through and carelessly stepped  _on_.

Nana had still been experiencing morning sickness when Iemitsu had decided then was the perfect time to leave; abandoning her in a new area, in an all but unfurnished house, with a baby on the way and a twenty minute walk into town, with ankles she wouldn't be able to feel in a few months.

She remembered vividly the day she had held fast to his "work" uniform and begged - _begged_  him to stay, at least until after the pregnancy and their son was born. Just to wait until they were settled so she didn't have to do it all _alone._

Iemitsu had smiled thinly at her. Like Nana had just asked for the world and she didn't understand the cost of it. A patronising glint was lit in his eyes as he placed a hot,  _burning_  finger on her lips that stilled her, no longer passionate but scorching. The heat forced her muscles to reflex and which managed to simultaneously stuff cotton wool into her head, and allowed him to manhandle her to the couch.

 _'I know this is hard to comprehend, Dear.'_  He had said while Nana desperately tried to regain control of her suddenly lethargic body, which would not obey her.  _'But, my job is very important. I promise that I'll come back, but the Boss needs some things taken care of now and I can't put it on hold any longer.'_

She couldn't remember much after that, just waking up to an empty house. Cold on the sofa where he had left her, with not even a goodbye to allow some closure. Nana hadn't heard from him for two months after that and when she did, it had been a postcard from Africa: a picture of some kind of tribal mask on the front with a small: "I'm fine. Sorry for leaving unexpectedly. Hope you and the baby's alright. All my love _blah blah blah.._."

In truth that had been when the first crack appeared, the first inkling that something wasn't right. The thing that had woken her up from the stupid love haze she had been under, and made her  _think_  about the things she hadn't even realised she had ignored.

Like how Nana didn't know any of Iemitsu's friends, had never met any of his family and couldn't recall what company Iemitsu worked for, had no way to contact him besides a number that she should only call in "emergencies" and a P.O box for somewhere in Italy.

When they were dating he had often diverted questions about himself onto her, so Nana really didn't know anything about him besides he always slept with the door in sight, preferred red meats, loved Japanese sake - or just any alcohol at all - and liked to walk around the house in his underwear (a cultural thing, she had thought at the time).

And Nana knew. Just  _knew_. That Iemitsu had been completely in control the day he had left. He had known what he was going when he had somehow taken her strength like it was  _nothing_ to him. She didn't know how, or why he thought he had the right but it scared something in Nana.

Despite this, Nana continued on with her pregnancy, desperately trying to make a good thing out of the situation and  _enjoy_ the first stages of her first baby. She went to all of her doctor's appointments, treasured her scan photos and kept up-to-date with a western birth book. Nana also tried to ignore the loneliness she felt when she went to the partner classes, while other expecting mothers had the father with them she struggled to stretch her monthly allowance to decorate nursery.

It was an absolutely  _embarrassing_  time for Nana filled with judgement from the neighbours or people around the area who didn't have a clue about her, or about her marriage. Though Nana should be allowed to be bitter, her relationship with Iemitsu had cost her, her relationship with her parents, her friends and her reputation.

(Nama  _had_ phoned to tell her parents that they had a grandchild on the way. That revelation had only caused a temporary pause, a few short questions and then a stunted "sayonara.")

Oh, and those "cracks" Nana mentioned? The _foundations_  of her relationships  _rocked_  when Nana went into labour on the Thirteenth of October weeks too early, in front of a panicked teenager who had to call for an ambulance for her.

He had been anywhere from fourteen to sixteen - Nana had thought - and although alarmed the boy ( _'I-I'm Hajime.'_ ) had nervously held her hand while he had dialled for the emergency services, all the while trying to keep her calm with a wavering smile and frightened eyes. ( _'J-Just keep calm, they'll be here soon.'_ )

Hajime had gone with her to the hospital, trying not to get in the medics way as he kept hold of her sweating hand, all the while stuttering reassurances ( _'You're...er, do-doing really well! K-keep up the good work!_ ').

Once they had arrived at the hospital she had been rushed to the delivery room where a doctor soon sprinted in, Hajime was still holding her hand and while unnerved by the situation was unwilling to leave her on her own.

 _'Can I call anyone for you Sawada-san?_ ' The doctor had asked as he pulled up a pair of disposable gloves. Nana in pain and filled with dread at the thought of a premature birth had nodded her head, sweaty and dizzy as the nurse quickly started to prepare her.

 _'My - my husband.'_  Though the only times she had heard from him was from the handful of postcards, he had to be here for this!

His number hadn't been on the system when the doctor - Leorio-sensei ( _'Just call me Leorio. Theres no need for formality now, I dare say you'll see a bit of me.'_ ) had sent the nurse to do just that, using the "emergency number" Iemitsu had given her, but not put on her records.

Leorio-sensei was younger, or younger than Nana had been used to but mature; older than his years in terms of the soul. His eyes are remarkably focussed and intelligent but also a million miles away.  

' _Sorry about this, Sawada-san._ ' Leorio-sensei had apologised as he checked her dilation. ' _The doctor on duty is busy with my friend right now but I'll look after you and you baby.'_

Things were decidedly rushed as her contractions got quicker and the pain - unlike anything she had ever felt before - worsened to a degree that shook her to her core with a hot red brand, as her inners felt like they were being split into two.

And while brave, sweet Hajime held her hand despite how tightly she must have griped it and Yui-sensei treated her kindly, all that Nana wanted was Iemitsu to be on the phone; for him to know and to hurry back to Japan.

For him to prove to her that what she had been feeling since he had felt had been her imagination, and for the fraying of their red string to simply be the tension of new parents, young and unsure of what family life would give them.

But Nana also knew that right then her baby was the priority and that she had to try and concentrate.

 _'Is he alright to stay with you, Sawada-san?'_  Leorio-sensei had asked while cursing someone under his breath ( _"Kurapika"_ she thought). Nana realised it wasn't procedure to allow anyone into the delivery room that wasn't family, but he seemed to be taking pity on her and she found she didn't mind that much.

Nana remembered looking up to the teen who had made no move to leave her, and although it probably wasn't the wisest decision, she couldn't help but act a little selfishly as another contraction hit and her world was shaken. Seeing dark brown eyes staring at her, she had tightened her grip further on his white fingers and nodded firmly once more.

What had followed was harsh hours of labour that seemed never ending even with Hajime's encouragement, and the doctor's firm praise, little could pierce through what was the agony of bringing a new life into the world.

Her legs were spread wide but weak and trembling; like she had no bones and there was fire unlike anything else burning from the middle of her back downwards. Nana tried to focus on her breathing, on pushing when told, on the strength in the hand which held hers, that she lacked.

Until finally, a cry more wrenching but more  _amazing_ than anything she had ever heard echoed into her hospital room and everything was basked in light.

The hurt, the fire meant little as Nana tried to straighten further to be able to see the child she had carried for such a long time. Leorio-sensei held the little bundle of pink flesh and chubby limbs. The baby was loud and dirty as the doctor took her child to the side to clean, and yet Nana still strained further to see them.

It took moments for Leorio-sensei to come back with her child and Nana could barely pay attention when he smiled at her and said:  _'Congratulations, its a boy.'_

She was tired, incredibly sore and sweaty but when Leorio-sensei was easing her child - her baby boy - awkwardly into her arms, it was her shining moment, with (' _Does the little one have a name?' '...Tsuna. He's my Tsu-kun.'_ ) Tsuna her proudest achievement.

And Iemitsu wasn't there to see it.

Nana stayed for a couple of days for observation after she had bled a bit too much, with Hajime coming to visit her with his family including his seventh month old brother who was as cute as button despite his serious expression.

Hajime was a good boy and would be an even better godfather, which is why barely twenty-four hours after labour, Nana readily gave the position to someone she  _knew_  would be sincere and do there best.

No one else came however. No Iemitsu, who never even answered the phone, nor her parents. Nana was released and spent her days for weeks taking care of their son, alone.

Tsuna was a good baby:  _extremely_  good, in fact, with his quiet tendencies, he barely ever cried and only ever whimpered to let Nana know he was in need. It was however, still exhausting.

Not even three months old and with no way to contact Iemitsu that hadn't already failed (or been ignored) Nana got another post card in the mail. It was of a forest, a wild cat in the forefront of the picture with Iemitsu smiling stupidly not far away.

 _"Well done hanging in there, Wife."_  It had read on the back, with no return address present.  _"Theres no vocation time available right now, so keep doing your best!"_

He hadn't even signed it.

Nana had never felt so angry and had almost shredded the thing before her grip had loosened, and with gritted teeth she had thrown it with the rest of them, inside the box she kept under the bed - then moved to the very  _back_ of her closest. In the dark. Alone. Where it deserved to be.

Nana went on. Doing her best to be a mother to a little boy who stared and watched more than he'd interact. She would learn about him - the personalty that was forming behind changing eyes (eyes she loved but couldn't work out: usually a chocolate brown, rich but not without its light, and then they could flash to sunset so quickly Nana could swear she was seeing things).

It wasn't easy and Nana struggled especially with how... _empty_  the house was. How quiet it could be. But then Hajime's mother, Aoko, would bring her boys around and it would brighten the day somewhat.

Nana recorded every moment and kept a close eye on Tsuna's development which was...slow. He took things at his own pace but he didn't seem to struggle so Nana chalked it up to Tsuna being Tsuna, rather than a learning disability.

Of course not everyone was that kind.

Nana knew that there might be some problems due to her somewhat infamous reputation as the woman whose husband had walked out, however she never realised how... _cruel_  the children could be until her Tsu-kun had started Daycare at four so Nana could get more work done, and Tsuna could socialise more.

Nana thought that he'd be as safe as he could be and he had Kensuke there with him (Hajime's baby brother) despite being a year above, but as it turned out, that had been naive of her when her baby boy was returned to her again and again with bruises, ripped clothes and broken toys.

The times the Mochida's came to visit weren't awkward but tough as the two mothers tried to quietly figure out what to do about the bullying, while Tsuna and Kensuke played with Hajime who was dotting and smitten with both boys even with all his unspoken strength hidden in sleek muscles and eyes that could so easily harden unyeilding.

Aoko was incredulous once she heard what was going on as Kensuke knew little of the trouble Tsuna had, with both the other children and the teachers, being in a different year.

And then Iemitsu came home. 

Tsuna was five and Nana had been forced into introducing him to his father through photos and postcards. She didn't how to react when she got a call from Iemitsu's office saying that he'd be at the airport waiting for her, to come get him. 

Her first response was to ask if it been so long that he had forgotten the way, but Nana was in shock, her tongue was numb and she had agreed without thought just so she could hangup the phone. 

She had no way of collecting Iemitsu. She vaguely knew that European's used less public transport than the Japanese and perhaps it had just slipped his mind. Taxi's were expensive however and she couldn't avoid it on what Iemitsu sent home.

Without thought, she had called Aoko. 

Aoko had a mini-bus at her disposal to take the students to tournaments that she taught, for the dojo she worked at. Nana knew that Aoko would help her though she was quite verbal when she found out the reason why she would need a vehicle.

After Aoko's screaming subsided and she had come to collect Nana, they had both gone to the airpot, with Tsuna strapped into the back in his carseat. Hajime was babysitting Ken-kun and Nana almost - _almost_ had asked if it were possible that he look after Tsuna too.

Nana went in by herself, Aoko agreeing to stay with the children and to keep the engine running as Nana quickly went to find her husband.

He found her.

He came up from behind her and embraced her tightly. Nana almost reacted violently until he whispered a "hello, dear" in her ear, and even than she bit her tongue in doing so. His hug was too tight, too liberal after having left her and their child for so long.

Before Nana could say this however, before she could say _anything_ Iemitsu was already pulling her along to a man standing further behind. He was older, perhaps in his fifties with snow white hair and moustache that hid his smile. ' _My boss!'_ Iemitsu had introduced in a flourish.

Stirrings of annoyance ate at her. Iemitsu had been gone for _years_ and yet he expected her to play host for him?

His arm slung over Nana's shoulders, hot and heavy and suddenly her knees were knocking and her mind fogged. ' _You were just going to introduce yourself, dear.'_

And so, she did. 

Strangely absentminded, Nana was led out of the airport were she was asked to show them to the car. She pointed it out without thought and was soon opening the back door to the mini-boss for the two men, one of which she didn't know the name for.

' _Thanks, dear.'_ Iemitsu had said, kissing her cheek as he got in and closed the door on her. 

Blinking, Nana suddenly felt lost with the weight gone. More than disoriented as she gazed around  before realising that she was meant to get in too. Fumbling the handle, she tripped up and struggled with the seatbelt.

Aoko's concerned gaze was lost to her and half way through the journey home as she talked with her husband, she felt the woman put a hand on her hand, squeezing.

Aoko asking her if she was alright is really the last firm memory she had of the few days Iemitsu visited and his boss visited for. There are fragments of heat and an ominous weightlessness, of cooking and being talked at or over. Tsuna worryingly gets lost in the confusion and she really can't recall how she cared for him at all.

Only how afterwards, Tsuna was different and not in a good way.

Tsuna got clumsily, tripping over air and falling off of things well enough to make Nana lose her mind while watching him. He's forgetful with his toys, his learning and nearly always with people too. When she asks him later, what he thought of papa, he can't answer her.

In fact, outside the small circle of people Nana had involved in her son's, he got shyer and shyer too, more withdrawn as he advanced up to Elementary School at six. At the time Nana often wished that little Kensuke had been born just a little earlier so that they could share a class. Just so Tsuna had someone who cared with him.

So when Tsuna dragged his first friend home, Nana couldn't have been more ecstatic, even if the boy Tsuna brought with him made her double take. It was the eyes that got her, the perfect emerald jewels which stared at her with such awe, she'd always remember.

Nana would try to dismiss it of course, since it was quite an odd thing to notice on a small child, especially by a married woman. But at the time it was Tsuna who had snapped her out of her trance, stammering and blushing as he slyly introduced his new friend: 'Th-this is Hana-kun...he - he helped me in the park wh-when Jiro started to say...mean things.'

 _Hana?_  Nana had thought.  _For a boy?_

Then again, you didn't get eyes like that from Japan. So...maybe he was from a partially foreign family?

And he was a sweet little thing, just a little shorter then her Tsu-kun, with even less fat on him and cute hair that was tied in a low ponytail, long but undeniably wild. Delicate, almost but there was something about him that stopped her from labelling him as such.

'Ara?' Nana breathed, busing herself with drying her hands in her apron to try and hide her anger. She had a good idea what those "mean things" were and she was _far_  from amused by them. 'That was lovely of Hana-kun!' She praised, feeling truly grateful.

'I'm Tsu-kun's mother, Sweet, Sawada Nana, Whats your name?' She asked, once again staring into his big eyes, and for once  _not_  bending down to his level as she usually would when speaking to children. Something about doing that just felt...wrong.

'...Hirabayashi Hana.' He replied quietly, his words but a whisper but as soon as Nana heard his voice, a shiver ran down her back; as something resonated between her and the name even as she tried to blink it away and invite the boy into her home.

Soon enough, with courage Tsuna had never had with a stranger, they were off on their own, going to play with the entertainment system she had struggled to set up in the living room (it was one of the few things her little boy had ever asked for, so of course she had saved for one). As soon as Hana had left the room however, she felt cold. Like when a blanket fell free on a cold winter night.

And it had been strange, as she hadn't felt like that since - since she had first met Iemitsu.

Shaking her head, Nana had tried not to think on it or the unbelievable amount of intelligence she had found shining on such a young face, and went back to preparing some snacks and drinks for the two boys.

She didn't have much in and hadn't had the time to bake, so Nana made do by filling two plastic cups with some fresh juice and emptying the last of the cookies onto a plate, before organising it all onto her tray to take it out into the lounge.

Nana could hear the sound of gleeful chortling from just outside the kitchen and it was enough to make her footsteps slow so she could peak through the creak in the door, without being noticed and disturbing them. What she saw made her heart impossibly warm.

Little Tsuna was on his back, wiggling helplessly into her carpet as his "attacker" mercilessly tickled under his armpits and around his sides. There's tears gathering in the corners of Tsuna's eyes as they flicker from the ceiling to his playmate, all the while begging in-between gaps of air for release.

Hana-kun on the other-hand had Tsuna pined with a touch so gentle - feather light - so unlike what Nana had seen from other children who were still learning about their own strength. His expression was what made Nana's breath catch however, as she didn't think she had ever seen such tenderness before, with how Hana-kun's lips are stretched out across his face highlighting adorable dimples and a glow about him that instantly lightens his more… mature aura.

His few rough chuckles seem to have to escape his throat as he continued the joyful assault, and are muted halfway but it fills Nana's heart with something sweet which settles pleasantly in her stomach as she sets to slip into the room to join them.

So yes, it was the greatest of ironies that Nana would meet the love of her life thanks to her son, while she was still married to the father of the aforementioned son. That the love of her life appeared to be six didn't help the situation.

And on looking back, she had been foolish and it had been all too quick when Hana-kun explained fire and magic to her. But Nana had been a single mother, with the only thing going for being her son, with a marriage she didn't care if it broke.

All her dreams, ambitions and hopes were destroyed by Sawada Iemitsu, so really, it was just as well that Hana-kun had every intention of rebuilding everything all over again.


	2. Harry's End

Harry James Potter was born into a world ready and willing to destroy him. Just little over a year old and he had lost everything. It would be a loss that would haunt him throughout his life but never so strong as on a sleepless night on an empty stomach in the cupboard under the stairs. Or with death’s cold breath from the mouth of a Dementor. 

At seventeen, his nightmares are much the same - with a few terrible additions even after he is murdered by the ghost of a man who had killed his parents.

But he survives, again and again. 

And after everything, he chooses to return to finish what begin so long ago at the foot of his crib. He forced the air back into his lungs, suffers silently the thunderous orchestra of his fool heartbeat and pretends to be dead. He keeps still, allows Voldemort his fun even as he smothers agony and humiliation.

That, however, is far easier than listening to Neville trying to rally even as pride that is not his to feel rises in this heart. Neville, who was always so timid, so scared, standing up to a dictator whose own followers couldn’t say his name. It allows their second wind to come.  It enables Harry to stand. 

To keep standing. 

And _live_. 

Whatever remains of Tom Riddle falls, finally at rest on the ground of what once had been his home, their home. The home that had almost been destroy. And now Harry stands over him - stands over the cloaked, inhuman form. He stares, unable to move even when he knows that Voldemort is dead. 

He has a wand clapped into both hands. Both are indisputably his, yet both so very foreign and he _needs_ that; desperately needs someone to acknowledge that one had not always owned him like it did now. Didn’t know how Dumbledore could tolerate it. Didn’t know how Voldemort could _want_ it. 

Staring at Voldemort, he marvelled that he was able to remain on his feet. Harry was exhausted. He had given this everything he had, arguably for as long as he had been alive. This - this fight - this conflict - had consumed him. Now the burden was no longer there. The responsibility of a whole _world_ full of people, gone. It was no longer suffocating him, the duty and expectation that had left him almost gasping for breath. 

So Harry stood and didn’t move even as the ruined Great Hall - once so brilliant with its enchanted ceiling and glass windows - was lit with life through the cheers that sung out, despite the dead that littered the ground. Despite the bodies, Harry could sense; could feel that were empty. so, so hollow a sense it was. 

Harry did not join in with the celebrations. Could not feel an ounce of what everyone else was. Stood, probably in a numb shock as he continued to stare and stare. The few that approached him did not stay long and he did not remember who did. Most simply gave them his space, even when Aurors - battle uniforms, wands still drawn despite the lack of threat - came with healers. They were escorting students home or to St Mungo’s and were they? When everyone was bleeding and fighting and dying? Where _were_ they?!

There was one particularly loud Auror that tried talking to him. Tried moving him before the Bloody Baron interfered and drove the man away, leaving Harry to keep his vigil, allowing him his silent thoughts and to steady his empty chest.

He may have fallen asleep like that, on his feet but still so ready to cast that his hands were humming with his magic, electric and still so eager. Or perhaps he was in such a daze that he simply drowned himself out until another voice was talking to him. It was solid and heavy in a way no ghost’s should be. 

'You did it.' The name his mind led him to was probably the only reason he tried to focus on it. ‘You’ll forgive me for saying, but…you were so young when we first met. So small. I knew who you were. Knew your parents to an extent but wasn't sure…it was so much to ask of anyone. But Dumbledore always had faith. Always believed.’ 

Idly, he wondered how long he had been there when he noticed how empty the Great Hall now was. How still everything had become.

Harry had started to respond into the quiet but didn’t even get to fully processing the order to open his jaw fully, before his teeth were tightly locked again. He hadn’t anything to say. He was past replying for politeness or pretending that really meant something to him when it didn't. Of course, Kingsley would have doubts. Everyone had. And yes, Dumbledore would believe. He always didm probably could not allow himself to think that everything he had planned for could be for nothing, otherwise.

Really, all Harry was was _pain_. The effects of the Cruciatus were like a part of him at this point. Add to that all the other scraps he had managed to earn during the battle, the fatigue that had built up from his time camping and everything was beyond him. 

Kingsley cleared his throat awkwardly. Harry would have ordinarily felt for the man but he was shattered, in pain and wanting - what? A bed? Something to eat? He didn’t even know but it was _something._ There just had to be something.

‘I’ve…I’ve taken over the Ministry.’ Kingsley admits. ‘I’m - I’m going to be our next Minister with how many positions were taken over by Death Eaters. …I’ll to be sworn in, in a few days.’ 

Harry blinked. Surprise welling in his stomach like the bubbles of an overdone potion. He hadn’t even thought about that. His mind had been so caught up in the damage that thinking about - about _fixing_ what was broken - or what had always broken but now corrupted beyond repair, hadn’t even entered the realm of his comprehension.

Harry honestly hadn’t thought that were _would_ anything after this war. Maybe it was because he didn’t think he would survive. He didn’t know, but the idea that he would have to keep going left him flat-footed.

‘I…understand that I have no right to ask this of you, Mister Potter.’ Kingsley had started. He was in obvious discomfort, Harry could tell without even turning away from Voldemort’s mutilated features. 'But I need to know, going forward…if you would support me?’

Harry had been involved with two Minister too many and the both of them though they had differed, they had obviously wanted things from him. It, however, had never held the same sort of sentiment before. He was now overly familiar with greedy, cowardly men trying to gain his approval. All you had to do was look at Voldemort, the image of where power brings people once they have been corrupted beyond any normal recognition, to understand what sort of road it can lead you down.

But Harry still considers this, now thinks with his brain not as much of a haze with a fire being lit in his stomach. The Ministry was as good as destroyed from Voldemort’s influence. Hundreds had died and thousands upon thousands had been hurt. The dust was settling. Maybe - _maybe_ Harry could -

Harry allowed himself to breathe. The smell of death hit the back of his throat but he still replied: 'that would depend.’ 

‘…on what?’  Kingsley asks cautiously. Harry had never been - but perhaps the man had a right to his wariness. Harry, himself, was no longer sure of who he was with a purpose that was not so clear now. 

Harry managed to move. The world greyed as he did so but he had no intention of collapsing and stubbornly held onto his grasp of conciseness. He pins a deep stare onto a man, a man who had had his back. Who Harry would have protected in turn. He was stood with a back that was ramrod straight and muscles so tense that it pulled his threadbare robe taut against his frame. 

‘It would depend on if you recognise what brought us here.’ 

It wasn’t just Dark Lords that were the problem, Harry had become increasing aware of that. It was the Wizarding Worlds ideology. It's the Purebloods that can’t tolerate Muggleborns and Muggleborns who - with no guidance with this new world that is sprung on them - can’t adept; don’t see a different culture for what it is. It's the system that forces people apart; that makes creatures suffer and turn them into something dark. Harry would be a fool not to see it after all this time.

The widening of Kingsley's eyes indicate the man’s surprise but Harry didn’t know what to make of the tired if not outright depressed smile that creeps across too pale cheeks like a shadow. ‘I’m not sure if my answer to that would satisfy you.’ 

‘That's not an answer at all so try me.’ Harry says without inflexion, very much done with deflection and omissions, half-truths and lies. Why people couldn’t just _say_ what they wanted, he would never understand.

Kingsley sighed but inclined his head in an unneeded acknowledgement. ‘No, it wasn’t.’ He agrees before raising his hands to scrub over his face. ‘We got here through racism. Through our institutionalised bigotry. I know what you’re trying to say -’

‘Do you?’

Kingsley closed his eyes. ‘Those words aren't mine…I learnt them from my stint in the Muggle World while I was protecting the Prime Minister. The Muggles taught me a lot, made me realise what I didn’t fully comprehend.’ He explains bluntly. ‘You're asking me this because you want to know if the next Minister will allow another Voldemort.’ 

Harry nods. ‘And?’

‘Honestly, I can’t say it couldn’t happen. I’m not a politician. I’m an auror. I have no idea how this will go but I don’t think I’m right for the position.’

A spark of interest lit Harry. He remembers Dumbledore’s words about leadership and how the men who lusted after power were often times unsuited for it, while those who had it thrust upon them were usually more worthy. 

‘Oh?’ Harry sounded in a noncommittal fashion to try and prompt Kingsley to keep talking. 

‘Voldemort was a criminal. His acts were evil and his regime was oppressive.’ Kingsley starts clearly before addressing Harry with respect Harry does not feel entitled to. ‘But…I _saw_ your duel. I saw both the best and worst of what this World can do. It - if we could fix the way this society works - if we could do _that_ -’

‘Won’t be quite so easy, though, will it?’ 

Kingsley grimaces. ‘No. No, it's not but…I hope to be able to make a difference with your help.’

‘As the hero of the hour.’ Harry mutters, bitterness welling inside. The Wizarding World was fickle, it always had been and it always would be. Harry didn't for one moment think that his effort against Voldemort would help that.

Kingsley’s lips pulled down unhappily. It was a testament to his honesty that he had not denied it. ‘The first thing I did was dismiss everyone in the Ministry. We’ll build from the ground up. It’ll be a complete overhaul.’ He said with a breath, tentatively taking a step forward.

‘Sounds like a lot of work.’ Harry comments vaguely and Kingsley’s shoulders droop in response. Uncomfortable, Harry glances back to Voldemort, and his thoughts churn with how much damage one hurt boy was able to do. Maybe - maybe this was the next step; fixing what Voldemort had broken. Kingsley was undoubtedly a good man with good intentions. Ones Harry could get behind, would be able to support. 

‘What convinced you?’ Harry asks.

Kingsley's lips quirked into something that almost resembled humour. ‘England.’

Harry’s eyebrows crawled up in confusion. ‘Pardon?’

* * *

Harry wouldn’t get an explanation until a couple of weeks later. After the battle he had spent his time recuperating with Kreacher’s help, who would wake him from nightmares, clean up after his accidental magic and would feed him. 

(Kreacher was a blessing but Harry also sometimes found it difficult to _look_ at the house elf. The actions that had led to the death of his godfather had left a chip in his heart. Forgiving, after all, was hard. Kreaturer, however, was making up for it and had stopped speaking poorly of Sirius.)

Harry felt a bit more human; a bit more put together now he was operating on more than four hours of sleep, and most of his cuts and bruises had healed with only the worst of his injuries still healing. All of which would be simple to ignore if only the trembling in his limbs would ease. 

(The Healer Harry had gone to see with Hermione and Ron had said a potion would help but after the Battle of Hogwarts and the influx of patients they were in short supply, so Harry had chosen to go without. He had a high pain tolerance and the trembling didn’t really _inhibit_ him so he could make do much to his friend’s exasperation.)

Kingsley had said to rest up and then come in, that there was plenty to do regardless in Harry's downtime. Like the restoration of Hogwarts and fixing Diagon Alley, among other things. But Harry felt - well, ready wouldn’t be…right. But he was starting to get cabin fever. He needed _out._ He needed to be doing something.

So he asked Kreacher to fetch Sirius’ leather jacket he had discovered in the cloakroom and left for the Ministry with his wand close to hand. Harry wasn't recovered and his friends wouldn't be pleased but he couldn't be doing  _moving_ in the mean time.

Kingsley had never looked so relieved to see him, happy and altogether too thankful with a tired face and exhausted eyes as he shook Harry’s lightly trembling hand. ‘Mister Potter -’

‘Harry.’ He corrected. 

‘Harry, then. _Thank you_ for coming.’ Kingsley’s emphasis and probably senses Harry’s discomforted as he quickly changes tack and gestures to the only other person around; the auror manning the entrance who had informed Kingsley of Harry’s arrival. ‘Harry, please meet William Jarsdel, Head Auror.’

The man is - Jarsdel - was a middle-aged man who had an overly sharp face with deep-set eyes, that was just tipping over what would be considered tall. Not overly board but in good shape and dressed in simple, combat clothing.

‘Head of what?’ I’m the only fool here.’ Jarsdel huffed though he didn’t look particularly annoyed about this. 

'He was partner's with Mad Eye for awhile during their junior days.' Kingsley informs which has Harry's eyes widening. 'He's been an asset for years but his particular politics made sure he didn't advance.'

Jarsdel snorts. 'That's one way to say it.' He comments but turns to address Harry, face seeming to soften as he holds out a hand. 'Nice to meet you, Potter. Kind of you to help with our radical problem.' 

Harry thinks laughter wells in his stomach and he smiles but still doesn't know how to face a person's thanks with how sincere and in good humour it was. 'Just Harry is fine.' 

'We'll have more time to talk later, there's someone else I'd like you to meet.' Kingsley states as he puts a light hand on Harry's shoulder. 

Kingsley walks Harry through Level One and all its empty offices until they reach one at the end of the hallway with the biggest door than the ones they had already past. 

Kingsley opens the way for Harry and allows him through first. He glances at the large desk buried in paperwork with red, sparking missives flapping about. He looks at the large portrait behind Kingsley's chair of two middle age men talking on a castle's battlements.

Harry watched them for a minute or two before his eyes are drawn to a presence he had been so slow to notice. A man, taller than Harry by a head or so who was staring at him with undisclosed interest. It was deep and all too intense for it to be simple passive staring. 

The man was blond with pale green eyes and an _impressive_ pair of eyebrows that took over the man's forehead. He seemed straight-laced and serious but his expression was gentle as he looked at Harry, like that of an older brother.

Even then, though, with all that he seemed like a man of rank with his Muggle-like, military style suit that was a moss green like his eyes. There was something about him. Something _powerful._ He felt almost like a creature but...no, that wasn't right. There was something so much _bigger_ about him. Something Harry could not explain nor understand.

'This is Harry Potter.' Kingsley says as he shuts the office door and comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry. 'Harry Potter, allow me to introduce you to Arthur Kirkland. He came as soon as realised something was wrong here.'

Harry felt confused, wondering who exactly this man was but...even with suspicion building in his gut, he couldn't bring himself to act on it. 'Sir.' Harry greeted as he inclined his head.

Kirkland walks forward from the corner of the room, stepping into the light with his arms folded behind his back. 'Harry Potter.' Kirkland says like he's testing the name, eyes lighting from behind with an inner fire. 'I would like to thank you for what you have done in service of this country and its people.'

Even with how official that sounded, Harry simply nodded. 'This is my country too and its people are my people.' He states because he feels like he has to say something. 

There's an old sort of sorrow in Kirkland's eyes but there's gratitude there, too. 'You make your Nation proud, Harry Potter.' 

Harry blinks but he's saved from having to try to respond when Kingsley clears his throat. 'Harry, this man...he is the personification of England.'

Harry's head snaps up to stare at Kingsley. His foolish thought that nothing could surprise him anymore disappearing like food on a Weasley's plate. 'What -'

'If you must, think of me as the soul of this land.' Kirkland - Fricken' _England_ says simply, easily like the words coming out of his mouth are meant to make sense. 'Only the royal family, my boss and their closest staffers are told of me. Since you agreed to try to fix this government, you are held in a high position.' 

'I think he also wanted to thank you.' Kingsley smiled tiredly, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

Kirkland shrugs but there's a weight there that Harry hadn't noticed until then. 'I felt the rot here but I didn't realise how _bad_ it was. Perhaps old age is catching up with me but then the attacks started to happen around London...' He tenses then, a deep shudder running through his core. 'It took me longer than it should have to realise what was going on and when I did, I couldn't get into the Wizarding World.' 

'England is one of the few nations that is the personification of _both_ the Muggle side and the Wizarding side of their countries.' Kingsley explains. 'He couldn't risk coming back inside once the Ministry was taken over. After the Battle of Hogwarts England was able to return -'

'Bit late, I realise.' Kirkland smirks sporadically, dead and grim as he stares at Harry.

'He promoted me and helped me kick everyone else out of the Ministry, so it wasn't _too_ late.' Kingsley says with a crooked expression. 'He was in quite the rage.'

Kirkland huffs, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. 'Do you have a lot of power, then?' Harry asks, wondering if everything he knew about the leadership of government to his country had changed..

Kirkland shakes his head. 'I try not to interfere but the corruption had to end. This is not our way and it would not become so. As long as it remains the will of the people, I am able to act.'

_This is not our way._

And Harry smiles.  

* * *

'You're _what?'_ Hermione exclaims from across Harry's dinner table with round eyes. 

Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. Honestly, it was to aid public unrest but Harry could work and Kingsley needed someone he could trust. 'Kingsley's asked for my help with fixing the Ministry; the last week we were clearing each department from any -'

'But what about your education?' Hermione demands in the knowledge that once Harry committed himself to something he was completely dedicated.

'Hogwarts is still closed for reconstruction -'

'Leave off, Hermione. It's not like we didn't know things would be different.' Ron says through a mouthful of food. 'Besides, isn't there something _we_ should be telling him...?'

They hadn't had much time together even with all they had been through together. They had all just been so _busy_ so Harry had invited them over for lunch. It was a surprise to see how their relationship had changed since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hermione deflated and guiltily starts to play with the food on her plate before she sighs in resignation. 'Since Hogwarts will be closed for a year, I'm going to go to Australia to find my parents.' She tells him which is kind of out of the blue since this is the first he was hearing about it, but they had been all been occupied and it was _nice_ to hear. 'I asked Ronald if he would come with me...'

Ron swallowed down a fork load of meat. 'And I said yes.'

Harry's happy for them and nods. 'When are you leaving?'

'At the end of the week.' Hermione replies. 'Since the Ministries closed right now, we're travelling the Muggle way. We're just waiting for Ron's passport to arrive in the mail.'

Harry could offer to go but it didn't feel like it was his place to even if he was partially responsible for what Hermione had had to do. That and was going to be stuck in England for awhile to come. 

'Take care of each other.' Harry says as he looks between them.

Ron laughs. 'Take care of _yourself.'_

* * *

Ron and Hermione have been gone for about a month when a Ministry Owl flies through his window at home. 

He's been spending a lot of time hunting down what remains of the Death Eater's and helping with Kingsley's employment efforts, while avoiding the press and Andromeda like the plague.

The language used in the letter had puzzled Harry but all the same. He had had Kreacher fetch his leather jacket - he had been foregoing robes for awhile now, much to the distaste of many - and quickly finished his breakfast before leaving to meet up with Kingsley.

The man himself is standing at the entrance waiting for him, Jarsdel by his side and Kirkland standing not that far away. All of whom looked a hundred, weatherworn and unbelievably fatigued. As wary as Harry felt approaching them they would have made quite the sight. Every time Harry returned to this empty Ministry, they looked worse. Harry wondered if the same could be said about him.

‘Thanks for coming, Harry.’ Kingsley said, always with the tone of gratitude. It only made Harry feel tired. ‘I know it was a bit short notice. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. _‘What_ notice?’ Jarsdel snorted and Kirkland shakes his head, clapping Harry’s shoulder with some amusement. 

Kingsley was probably the only person Harry knew that could appear sheepish but serious at the same time. ‘Yes, well. You did agree to this when you said you would help me.’ 

‘I think _that_ was your idea too.’ Harry retorts.

Kingsley laughed, sound tempering out before it even reached the height it could go, clear with exasperation. ‘Harry!’

 _‘Kingsley!’_ Harry parrots with much the same tone because he’s somewhat high on the potions he’s been prescribed (that Kreacher has been forcing him to take), and it makes him all the more willing to step over boundaries that he would ordinarily leave alone. 

Kingsley sighed though there was a faint twitching of his lips. ‘You’re not going to let me get away with anything are you?’ 

‘Well, that's partially what you need me for, isn’t it?’ Harry quips without feeling. He liked Kingsley. He truly did and he thought he always would. The man was fair and wanted to do the right thing but after everything Harry had seen and suffered through, he had lost all trust for people in power. ‘Today though…what had you Owling me?’

Kingsley’s expression had shuttered, pained but understanding in that silent way of his. ‘The ICW's demanded our attendance to a meeting. I’ve been trying to starve it off until I had more good news to show them but…’

‘He’s kept them waiting long enough.’ Kirkland states, arms crossed and eyes flat. ‘I don’t particularly like fielding demands from other Nations. They don’t need _some_ good news just _any_ would have sufficed.’ Kingsley bows his head in apology. 

‘Sorry, but I don’t know much about the Ministry beyond how to break in and out again. What's the ICW?’ Harry had to cut in though he had picked up a bit since then, mostly due to Jarsdel help, it was still new to him.

‘The ICW stands for the “International Confederation of Wizards”.’ Kirkland explains easily, eyebrows slanting downwards. ‘It's equivalent to the Muggle UN. People of importance are pulled out from each country to contribute to talks and meetings. For example, if we had a full Ministry at the moment each Head of Office would attend, including the Head Warlock of the Wizengamot along with the Minister (obviously), his Support Staff, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and I, myself, if the meeting happened to be of some urgency.’ 

Harry did not ask if the meeting “happened to be of some urgency”. That much was already clear. The three men were the only ones who were attending said a lot to the state of the Ministry even after all this time and all their work. Still, ‘then why am _I_ going?’ 

‘Because, old chap.’ Kirkland said, ‘You’ve been acting in line with the Minister’s Support Staff. In fact, you’ve been holding the Office of the Advisor since you agreed to this madness. Didn’t you know?’ 

 _The problem with Nations,_ Harry thought in numb shock, is that they had gotten so old that they took pleasure at causing mischief. Or at least, their’s did. The way Kirkland spoke told Harry that he knew very well that Harry hadn’t been told and took a great amount of amusement in it now. 

_The prat._

‘Kingsley…’ Harry hissed dangerously. 

Kingsley held up his hands. ‘I had to make you official in some context, Harry.’ He responds. ‘You can complain later. I swear. But we’re going to be late.’ He states as he glances at the clock off to the side. 

With that, Harry allows himself to be swept along as Jarsdel takes pity on him and briefed him quickly. ‘Dumbledore’s old position - you remember, don’t you? - as Supreme Mugwump? It's the ICW’s chosen leader who holds some authority over the council. That is who will be speaking to us.’ 

Harry had nodded. ‘How’s the position decided?’

The auror shrugged. ‘Votes.’ He responds. ‘It's just to keep order in all honesty. Think of them a judge with everyone else present the jury. Without the jury, the judge can’t do all that much if anything.’

The explanation was useful and Harry found himself grateful for what must have been the deliberate use of Muggle terminology. 

‘Dumbledore lost his position because of Fudge. The ICW picked a new Supreme Mugwump and wanted to discuss Voldemort when his return was finally admitted to the public but then the Ministry fell.’ Kirkland’s voice is grim, tone dark and heavy. ‘With the Ministry gone, I had to inform the ICW and leave the country. Doing anything else would have been folly. I couldn’t stay and be captured.’ 

‘To be summoned by the ICW…well, it's never good. In fact, it's seen as a great embarrassment.’ Kingsley muttered as they entered his office and he quickly summoned the Portkey.  

Harry shrugs and thinks,  _not much to do about it now._ The International Portkey was _awful_ and affected Harry the most out of all of them, with Kirkland not looking the least bit ruffled by the sickly transport. However, they arrived in the mountains of Tibet without fuss. (And really, It wouldn’t be long before their infamous yeti problem became _Harry’s yeti problem_.)

Moving quickly, Harry was taken inside what should have been the opening to a very small cave. It wasn’t one but rather a rather stunning but official looking office space. The guards at the door asked for their badges (Harry’s - that hadn’t even known he had - was being held by Jarsdel) and were quickly lead past doors and doors until the reached an elevator. 

When it got to the bottom of the shaft it opened to a huge hall, full to the brim of wizards and witches, all of whom were watching them. A Japanese man was waiting for them at the doors approached. They had barely gotten out of the lift when he bowed lightly to their party, gaze respectfully roaming each face before he settled on Kirkland. 

‘Igirisu.’ He sighed in adjective relief, straightening himself to his full height as his soft, accented voice rises and falls. ‘It is good to see you well.’ 

‘Japan.’ Arthur greets with an attitude no more different than usual even with the weak smile tilting his lips.  ‘Did you ever doubt?’

This man - _Japan_ \- did not answer right away, the tensions of old grief ageing his graceful face. ‘Perhaps.’ He responds. ‘America too has been most worried about the, ah, _terror attacks_ you have been suffering but I see know it was for nothing. Though…Saru mo ki kara ochiru.’

‘Keizoku wa chikara nari, Japan.’

Harry blinked at the literary of foreign words, spoken like a song from lips used to singing. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised though their reunion was broken short by the quiet, deliberate cough of a woman. Japan steps to the side to allow them through. ‘See you at the end, Igirisu.’

Arthur’s lips quirk and he inclines his head as he nudges Harry to walk toward the podium in the middle of the hall. He does so and allows his legs to climb the stairs, eyes looking ahead to the one chair that was in alignment. Kingsley joins him by his side with Jarsdel just a little bit behind and Kirkland just a bit in front. 

The sides of the rectangle shaped room is lined with three levels of benches where wizards and witches of multiple nationalities stood. Harry finds himself surprised at the period specific clothing but with how dated Wizarding Britain was, he shouldn’t be.

(In a way it was very...beautiful, to see national clothing before Westernisation. Harry found it organic, powerful in a way that the robes he disregarded was not.) 

The head seat, though, is occupied by an Asian woman who wore a kimono of a bright and variant fabric. Even with how far Harry stood he can see the roaring phoenix that curled around the collar. He didn’t miss how Japan and the woman shared a glance as he retook his seat by the party he must have belonged, to if only because it appeared as people stood with his country. 

‘Shacklebolt-sama.’ The woman acknowledged as soon as they had been situated on the podium. Her eyes were highlighted by black eye makeup which brought out the lightness of her hazel eyes as she stared them down, her bright red lips flat and unexpressive upon her oval face.

Kingsley bowed clumsily, arms to his side. ‘Supreme Mugwump.’ He greets.

‘We are glad that you were able to make it.’ The Supreme Mugwump stated. When her gaze flickered to Harry her eyebrow quirked. ‘Potteru-san, I believe?’

The accent while not as slight as Japan’s had been was not overly heavy either. Harry nodded and awkwardly said: ‘hello,’ to which Kingsley’s obvious wince had Harry stumbling an: "er, Supreme Mugwump" out.

Amusement lit her face however stern a shape it was. ‘Ah. Please, my name: Umeki Kaida, Potteru-san. We have heard much about you.’ She states. ‘The letter from Shacklebolt-sama named you a hero but…you are aware that the last representative from Britain we received told us that you were a criminal, and if we were to find you in our countries we were to immediately turn you over to your authorities?’ 

Harry didn’t look away from the woman in front of him but the feeling of being trapped tightened his chest. ‘That…sounds right.’ 

‘And…in your opinion, Potteru-san,’ Kaida had started delicately. ‘Which one are you? The hero or the criminal?’

His hands fisted and Harry didn’t bother to listen to Kingsley’s noise of protest. ‘I did what I had to do.’ He states. ‘I…I don’t think I’m a hero. I did, like, a hundred things wrong. I involved people that shouldn’t have been involved. I got people _killed_ through stupid mistakes and - and I am responsible for Voldemort’s death.’

 _‘Harry.’_   Kingsley had hissed lowly, tugging on his arm to get him to stop. 

‘What?’ He barely turned his face to look at Kingsley’s panic. ‘You don’t you think it's novel that I killed my killer?’ His eyes flashed in warning, teeth on edge but Harry was beyond caring. ‘At the time…’ Harry continued as he took a breath. ‘At the time I was definitely working against my government. I earned my status. I broke into the Ministry, Gringotts and Hogwarts. I performed magic in a Muggle area and - and used the Unforgivables. So, yeah, to you I probably am a criminal. Undesirable Number 1, right?’

Kingsley’s grip tightened and then loosened in shock. There were some mutterings in the stands but Kaida kept her face flat. ‘You tell us that, why?’

Harry had shrugged and if it was seen as disrespectful, well, that wasn’t his problem. ‘Because I can’t pretend that I didn’t do what I did. I can’t pretend that that’s not what I am.’ 

Harry had been reading reports in the _Daily Prophet_ about his deeds; about how he ended the battle and the bloodshed. He had people throwing themselves at his feet in thanks. But people didn’t want to see what he did in order to accomplish this; they didn’t want to understand everything that he had had to do. Everything that he had given up. That he had _lost._

Kaida had hummed, long and deep. ‘Brave, you are shonen.’ She comments. ‘I have been part of this body for much time. I have seen many representatives for your country but…’ she trailed off, staring at him in ways that reminded him of Snape only not as intrusive. ‘Yes, you are good. I remember Dumbledore-sama who tried hard to be good. But he did not take responsibility like you do. He could not for it would destroy him if he did.’

Dumbledore was a source of conflict for Harry, even if once upon a time he would have sworn to his name. ‘He always did what he thought was right.’

‘Yes.’ Kaida response. ‘Perhaps. But… like you have said, Potteru-san, you “did what you had to” knowing that it might not have been right. A warrior I see in you.’ Then, she turned to Kingsley. ‘We understand that you will be reforming your government in the next few months?’

‘Y-yes.’ Kingsley had stuttered, put off from his long absence in the conversation. ‘Once I’ve got the departments cleared out we'll start recruiting, mainly for the Law Enforcement department to start.’ They had discussed this, briefly. They needed to get things up and running. To do that they needed the DMLE back in working order.

‘Ah. Neko o ou yori sara o hike.’ Kaida had smiled. ‘You plan on getting to the root. And Potteru-san will be with you in this? He is much young for the position you have given him in your government.’

Kingsley inclined his head. ‘There's no pressure from me for Harry to go along with this but there's a lot of unrest with the public. He’s…Harry has a lot of sway right now, in Britain.’

‘Yes, I imagine he does.’ Kaida states and Harry feels a bit unsettled by her gaze and how she looks at him. ‘Just remember, Shacklebolt-sama: chousho wa tansho. What you can see as an asset now, could view as a hindrance in the future.’

‘I…I don’t quite understand -’

‘And this body hopes it is to stay that way.’ Kaida interrupts. ‘From what I understand, England owes Potteru-san a debt -’ to which Kirkland nods, quiet but thankful. ‘This body will not forget that. Let us hope that you do not either, Shacklebolt-sama.’ 

‘Of…of course, Supreme Mugwump.’ Kingsley responds. 

The rest of the session had been about a lot of questions over the current state of Britain, primarily the wizarding side of things before they had asked after the Muggle world and current relations. The economy had come up as well as a number of other things that Harry had really had no business being a part of at the time. 

Towards the end, Kingsley had been given a warning about their government and how, while the ICW was willing to forgive Britain’s short stint as a dictatorship and the disregard to ICW guidelines, that it must not happen again if they wanted to keep their membership. Kirkland had seemed somewhat fidgety at that but had remained silent.

Leaving, and Harry had shaken many a hand with a lot of wizards and witches that had given him nothing but warm thanks and reassurances that he hadn’t quite understood at the time. Japan, in particular, had gone out of his way by giving him a fan without much explanation but it was as beautiful as it was deadly. Harry’s only thought that it must be especially lonely being a Nation.

Kingsley had apologised when they were back in his office. Luckily, Harry wasn’t all that angry about it even if he was a bit put off that he wasn’t told about his position in the Ministry. As long as he was able to go through the same recruitment phrase as everyone else when it was time to try and fill the Auror Office back up again, it didn’t matter to him.

Kingsley had seemed somewhat surprised that Harry had still wanted to be an auror with the whole “Advisor to the Minister” thing but Harry was adamant. He wanted to feel useful; he _needed_ a more hands-on approach. He couldn’t stay cooped up in an office all day. 

* * *

'The ICW?' Mister Weasley parrots in astonishment.

Harry nods while battling his way through the homework Kingsley had given him. 'Yeah, it's no big deal, though.'

'No big deal?' Mister Weasley says again weakly.

'Hn. It didn't have to do with me, not really.' Though Harry was starting to think after having some time to process the whole thing that there was something he had missed through the whole experience. 'Kingsley only brought me along because he tricked me into being his advisor.' 

There was a long pause. '...advisor?' 

'Harry, dear?' Misses Weasley tentatively began. 'I thought you said you were just helping the Minister out?' 

'So did I.' Harry muttered. 'Have you heard from Ron and Hermione?'

'Only a small note from Ronald, oh that boy.' Misses Weasley sighs. 'He says they're fine and that they've managed to find poor Hermione's parents.' 

Relief flooded Harry and he smiled even as he read regulation on creatures that would need to be amended. 'That's great.' He breathes even if he sobers a moment later. 'And George?'

The silence that follows is tense and guilt churns Harry's stomach as he bites his lip. 'He...' Mister Weasley struggles, voice thick. 'Needs space.'

Harry closes his eyes but nods. 

'You wouldn't have happened to have spoken with Ginny recently, Harry?' 

Harry feels his cheeks grow hot and can't find an appropriate answer so buries himself further  in his reports. 

* * *

Jarsdel is a _slave driver_ Harry decides as he enters into auror training along with the rest of the recruits both new and old. "Old" were aurors past, who if they wanted their jobs back had to start back at the beginning. Those that were invited back anyway and weren't dishonourably discharged or under investigation.  

Ron still hasn't returned from Australia but Neville is there which...honestly, is a great reassurance. Harry's still wound up and twitchy from the war and while a familiar face isn't enough to relax him - not around so many - but it took the edge off. 

During one of their breaks, Neville had settled down next to him. 'I thought I'd find you here.' He had laughed.

'I'm honestly a bit surprised.' Harry stated as he stared at his friend and the scars on his face that he had earned by refusing to do the wrong thing; for fighting for what was _right._

'Well, you know I'd follow you into anything Harry. I owe you a lot.' Neville confides openly so far from the eleven-year-old that Harry had first met that he struggled to draw a comparison.

'You don't owe me a thing.' Harry denies.

'Kill the snake?' Neville grins to which Harry laughs.

'Kill the snake.' Harry nods as their break comes to an end and Jarsdel continues to work them like the devil that had Harry wondering if the man was _trying_ to send everyone "back to mummy" as the head auror himself had taunted.

They couldn’t really afford those sorts of tactics. Harry was aware of the state of the Ministry and they were in desperate need of numbers. He, also, understood though that if they couldn’t stand some psychical exertion and verbal abuse than they’d be no good in the field.

Seeing Neville not even blink at a man screaming drills in his face when his greatest fear had once-upon-a-time been Snape, well, Harry couldn’t help but be happy. Happy that Neville had finally found some spine and would be able to take care of himself. Had been well; had taken care of practically the whole school for that last year if what Harry was hearing from Luna was true, to which he would have little doubt.

* * *

Harry was working on some documents for Kingsley when Kreacher announced that he had a guest. He had been at it for awhile so he shrugged and headed down to the entrance. 

Standing on his doorstep was Ginny who appeared slightly uncomfortable as she shifts from one leg to the other. She looks up from the floor as she hears him approach and smiles.

'Hullo, Ginny.' Harry greets despite his confusion as he nears her.

'Harry.' Ginny returns. 'This is probably _sudden_ but...Mum and Dad mentioned the other day - well, you broke up with me because of the war and the wars over now so...'

Harry's heart tightens and he licks his lips in nerves. 'A lots changed since we dated but if you wanted to give it another try...'

Ginny nods and as if sealing a deal, kisses him on the cheek.

* * *

When Harry is cleared to be put on active duty he's given his own cubicle on Level 2, right next to Neville whose been assigned to be his partner. Their working together was something the two of them had talked about and had been hoping for. 

It's after their first mission where they're patching up a few flesh wounds from some poorly aimed Cutting Curses that the Daily Prophet notifies the Wizarding World that Hogwarts was reopening. Their shared smiles were massive and although Ron and Hermione had just returned to England with her parents, he sends them an owl about it. 

He gets invited to dinner which he happily attends to after work. He had asked to join them but Neville but he had a date with Luna to get to, so he had said goodbye and Flooed directly to the Burrow.

He greets Misses Weasley with a kiss on the cheek and Mister Weasley with a brief shoulder pat as they welcome him from the fireplace. It seems to be a full house when they walk him to the table, with Ron and Hermione already sat with Ginny by her some day soon sister-in-law's side and George next to Ron with Percy in the other seat.

Harry meets them all but George and (surprising) Percy give him the warmest reception. 

'Harry.' Percy smiles, an expression that is hesitant but is trying to be kind as he offers Harry a handshake. 

'Good to see you, Perce.' Harry returns. They hadn't always had the best relationship and there was a moment there where resentment was building but Percy had made up with his family and that was really all Harry had wanted and any slight towards him was forgotten. 

Percy's expression brightens, tension easing out of his shoulders. 'See, no grudges here.' George grins but it's a shadow of its former self. Harry quietly admires George's strength; after he had lost Sirius that would have been beyond him. 'Harry, mate, what hit you?'

Harry's hand automatically goes to touch the cut on his cheek. 'Ah. Don't worry about it.' He dismisses. 'You should see the other guy. 

'A mission?' George asks anyway. 

Harry sits himself down and can't help but cringe as it irritates a wound on his lower back. 'Yeah. Nev had already tackled the perp as he was casting so I guess I'm lucky.'

'Lucky?' Ron asks in disbelief. 'Wasn't that dangerous? And "Nev", when'd you get that close to Longbottom?' 

Harry frowned, confused at the sound of irritation. 'Lucky because the perp was aiming at my _eyes_.' He stated much to their discomfort. 'And I thought I had mentioned this but Nev and I were partnered together.'

Hermione's head tilted. 'Neville's an auror?' 

 _Huh. Guess not._ Harry nods. 'Yeah, a brilliant one at that. I really thought I told you this.' 

'I heard about it.' George says. 'In the last Owl, you sent me.' 

'Anyway, you going back to Hogwarts? Or joining the Ministry?' Harry asks. He didn't want to get into what he did and didn't say. It wasn't even why he had turned up for dinner today. 

'Well, I obviously want to finish my education.' Hermione states with bright eyes. 'I do want to join the Ministry; there's a lot that needs to be done and I think I can contribute.' 

Ron glances at Hermione. 'I'm gonna go back to Hogwarts.' He says which was something of a surprise to Harry but he supposed that things changed with relationships. 'But I'm definitely going to be an auror.'

'Good luck with Jarsdel.' Harry laughs but couldn't help but feel light. 'It's good, though, about Hogwarts?'

'It's brilliant, dear.' Misses Weasley agrees as she hustles to the table with the first lot of plates.

* * *

'I'm not ready yet.' Ginny says suddenly while they're eating at a table for two in Grimmauld Place. Most of his free time with his friends - or girlfriend as was the case here - was spent over meals. Harry was just so  _busy_ that he had precious little time for anything else. Holding to positions in the Ministry would be like that, he supposed. 

Harry glances up from his plate and hums in confusion. 'Not ready?'

'For sex.' Ginny states. 

Harry feels himself recoil. They hadn't been dating long; he wasn't prepared for that right now, not on top of his working hours and dealing with the public and the reporters. He just - well, _he_ wasn't ready. 

That didn't mean he wasn't confused as to why Ginny had even brought this up. Did she feel like Harry was pressuring her? 'Um...can I ask -?'

'I want to wait until marriage.' Ginny tells him which throws Harry through an even bigger hoop.

 _Was this a test of some kind?_ Harry had heard that girls did that sort of thing, sometimes. Harry knew that Ginny wasn't exactly inexperienced though he supposed that might change between partners. Still, though, _marriage?_

Whatever. He had been at work for a good seventeen hours and his energy was in pretty small supply right now.

'Okay, no problem.' Harry says in agreement.

* * *

Harry almost loses an eye taking an illegal potions brewery down. If it wasn't Neville he would have. He was dizzy and in pain and maybe that's what it took for him to stumble to Andromeda's house. He hadn't had much contact with the woman - didn’t known how to talk to her after the war that had taken her husband, her daughter and her son-in-law and had left her looking after her infant grandson.

The way she stares at him with such astonishment made him feel all of three feet tall as he stands on her doorstep. 

 ‘…Harry?’ She asked before she was pulling him into the house, hands cupping his face and looking so much like her sister and so _different_ that his throat tightens. ‘Harry, whats happened? Are you alright?’ 

Her concern only increases the guilt but he can admit that he probably looks a state. ‘Yes, sorry for just dropping by.’ 

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Andromeda shook her head. ‘I’m more worried about -’

The healer Harry had seen had put some sort of salve on the wound but had also bandaged it to avoid the risk of infection while the salve fixed the damage. However, that also meant that he looked part-mommy with the portion over his eye completely wrapped. ‘This? It looks worse than it is.’ He couldn’t help but lie.

Andromeda’s lips thinned, looking only unimpressed and spends a moment staring before she blows out a breath. ‘Well, enough of this. Why don’t you come on in and sit yourself down? We can talk -’

 _‘No!’_ Harry exclaimed without meaning to and almost swallowed his tongue when he realised. ‘I - I mean - I don’t want to…disturb you. I - I just. About Teddy.’ He starts and yeah, his absolute need to see that little boy was beyond painful. ‘Would…would you be willing…would it be okay if I -’

He could feel himself start to get choked but he doesn’t even need to finish before Andromeda is lifting his head by a finger gently elevating his chin. ‘Of course. You’re his godfather.’ She says like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Without him even needing to finish. ‘This wasn’t the reason I haven’t heard from you all this time was it?’

Harry had ended up staying for tea and helping change Teddy who had been put down for his nap. It was the first time he had held that little boy and part of the stress he had been carrying since the Battle of Hogwarts melted away. He was told he could visit as much as he wanted but she expected him at least once every week, or a couple of weeks if work got busy. Really, he beat the odds by going three to four times. 

“Ry” was Teddy’s first proper word - every if it wasn’t fully completed - and Harry fell in love all over again.

* * *

By eighteen, he’s bogged down by assignments, has gotten more injuries than the entire department in the same slot of time and has an intimate relationship with quite a few of the healers in St Mungo’s much to Neville's worried exasperation. He’s tired but he’s building his relationship with Teddy and he’s started to see more of Ginny again, while also managing to visit the Burrow and sometimes drifting to the Twin’s - to _George’s_ shop. 

(George was one of the most obviously affected by the war. He had lost an ear, his twin brother _and_ his smile. But he was strong and only a year later was the reopening their store with another boon from Harry and trying to make laughter for a community that so desperately needed it, even if he, himself was more than a little broken.)

It was only through George and visiting the shop so much that he realises that he hasn’t cleared up his situation with Gringotts. The thought of it makes him feel just a tad ill. He had been warned about the goblins and that he shouldn’t ever cross one. Not only had he but he had _broken_ into their bank, used an _Unforgivable_ against one of their employees and _stole_ their dragon. 

‘You sure this is a good idea?’ Neville asked with an almost constipated expression on his face as he walked with Harry just a bit further down the street from the bank. 

‘Can’t put it off forever.’ Harry had responded though he liked what he was about to do even less. 

Neville sighed but stopped his argument and allowed Harry to lead them to the bank whereupon queuing for a good forty minutes they were escorted to a back office. Every step they took was another further inch that Neville tensed. The armed guard that followed them didn’t help matters.

An office had been their destination with a goblin by the name of Sabre, who was behind his desk wearing a neat pinstriped suit. His truly antagonist face was only aided with Harry’s apology and promise to pay for restoration, which had evidently hadn't been something that the goblin expected if his shocked jaw drop was anything to go by. 

Neville had made a pained noise when Harry had promised whatever amount could cover the damages. He had thought that that would be his money gone. Surprisingly, _no,_ though he wouldn't have been too worried if that had been the case. He had two positions in the Ministry and both paid well especially when he was able to save a good majority of it, since Harry had so little expenses.

Though, that was only because Harry had more than one vault, like he had originally thought but then things like finances it had always been the furthest thing from his mind.

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand why you would think otherwise, Mister Potter.’ Sabre said with an expression of annoyance. ‘We have been sending you steady bank statements since your thirteenth birthday when you came-of-age and inherited your lordship.’

This had brought Harry up short. ‘What…lordship?’ And then: ‘And what bank statements? I’ve only ever gotten a handful of letters from friends and Hogwarts not…anything like that.’ 

Neville had spluttered in shock. ‘You don’t know?’ He had asked, voice hushed and eyes wide. ‘But…’ He stopped for a second. ‘No. _No,_ that would have made sense. Harry, I - did you ever get any of my letters from…before we met?’

The question only further added to Harry’s confusion. ‘From before? No…did you write to me?’ 

Neville blushed then, his lips set into a wobbly line. ‘Harry I sent you steady letters up till we were eleven. I knew about you growing up: we’re godbrothers so I wanted to try and, you know, start something up. But on the train, when you acted like we didn’t know each other; well, I figured you were embarrassed by me.’

Harry’s face must have been a picture and he shook his head so hard it almost hurt as he placed a hand on Neville’s shoulder, pulling the man closer until Neville was almost out of his seat as Harry firmly denied that. ‘What? _No!_ Of course, I wouldn’t have been - I…I didn’t know.’ 

Neville’s smile is a sad, sort of bittersweet but it's gentle and understanding. ‘Yeah…the more I got to know you at Hogwarts the more I knew that that couldn’t be it. I started to think that maybe you didn’t want to think about - about _family.’_ The lines of his face suddenly look so much breakable with the scars that are ripped into the right side, like they could just tear apart. ‘And all this time…you didn’t even…’

Harry’s stomach was a twisted, knotted thing and if he had, had the time to give Neville a hug he would have. He wasn’t one to instigate touch; he wasn’t used to it but with Teddy, he was learning and with the new, weighty but absolutely amazing knowledge that Neville was actually family the desire was that much stronger. 

Instead, though, Sabre coughs and Harry forces himself to look back to the goblin. ‘To interrupt you, I must continue to ask, Mister Potter, that you have not gotten any of Gringotts’ mail nor did you know about your lordship?’

‘No.’ Harry confirms. 

Sabre's eyes are beady and narrowed and Harry thinks that if he had been lying - had been found to be lying about this - then he would have been cut in two. ‘And you would be willing to take Veritaserum to confirm this?’

Harry nods. ‘Yeah but I still don’t know what lordship you’re talking about. I realised that my parents might have had some money when I saw my Trust Vault but…lordships are a big deal aren’t they?’ 

Neville touches Harry's hand, his fingers sliding across Harry's knuckles from where his digits are clenched into the fabric of the chair. Harry could barely feel it due to the scarring that had been caused by the blood quill. 

‘Harry…were you really never told about this?’

Harry frowns. ‘No…I mean, who was meant to tell me? It's not something Aunt Petunia would have known about, I don't think.’ 

‘You would have had a Magical Guardian, Harry. To tell you things about the Wizarding World. The Ministry gives them to children who are being raised in the Muggle World or are Muggleborns. Since you were the last of your House, you should have been given top priority.’

‘Nev, I don’t understand.’ Harry says numbly.

‘A House, Mister Potter is a magical lineage that has both been blessed by magic and has been able to earn the status of Ancient and Nobel.’ Sabre had thankfully cut in. ‘They are the royalty of the Wizard World and make up the House of Lords in the Ministry. Or, they did, before they were eventually replaced by the Wizengamot in order to better…appeal to Muggleborns.’ 

‘Alright…’ Harry had said. ‘And…my family is a…“House”.’ And _oh_ had that been strange to say back then.

Sabre inclined his head. ‘A wizard’s core matures at thirteen; the age when you can either inherit the Heir ring to your House or the Lordship. You, Mister Potter, are the last of your House so we at Gringotts were expecting you to come to collect your ring so that you would be able to take up the duties of your family.’ 

‘So I should have known about this years ago?’ Harry asked, slightly incredulous.

‘We sent a letter out. It was not our duty to do more than that.’ Sabre responded.

Harry glanced at Neville. ‘Why didn’t you mention it?’

Neville winced. ‘I…well, honestly? I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. We didn’t get close until all that upheaval with the Ministry and I…I didn’t know how to treat you.’ Neville explained in a way that broke Harry's heart.

‘Neville, if I had known about you -’ 

Neville’s smile is lopsided and just a bit too tight. ‘I know, Harry.’ He nudges his side. ‘Anyway, I think we’re on track. We’re where we should be.’ 

Harry opened his mouth to tell Neville that they could have gotten there _sooner_ if he had gotten those letters but he didn't get that far.

‘Would it be your wish to take up your lordship?’ The goblin asked to which Harry had shrugged but agreed to.

Harry had left with a ring, a godbrother and carrying four boxes of documentation he had to go through that Neville said he could help with if Harry wanted some advice. 

The following year he joins his place among the Wizengamot with Neville who had finally started to take on his duties as Lord Longbottom. His parents had been killed in the attack on St Mungo’s during the war but Neville had been hesitating over what to with the estate until Harry’s own issues.

(Harry got the feeling that a lot of people were unhappy with this but Susan Bones had greeted them with a smile and offered them to sit next to her.)

Harry learns a lot of the Wizengamot; a lot that he wished he had known when he was sitting in the defendant’s chair for something that hadn’t even been his fault. In saying that, the Chief Warlock whose in charge wasn’t much a fan of him - or his friends was, which was an understatement as far as understatements went. 

In saying that, few of the Wizengamot liked Harry after the screening process he had had to give their members to ensure that none of them were cohorts with Voldemort. They had lost half the bar to Azkaban; a lot of Lords and the ones who remained were appalled by the whole thing. 

* * *

 _'Harry?!'_ A demanding voice calls through the buzz of his hearing. A hand is grabbing at his shoulder and Harry tries to flinch away from it but finds himself unable to. 'Harry? Open your eyes. _Please -'_

It feels like there are weights tied to his eyes as tries to push them open - doesn't know when he closed them - but his sight is hazy and grey when he manages to build up the strength to do so.

He's on the floor, limbs numb and Neville is crouched over him with such a distressed look that he wonders if someone's hurt.

 _'You!_ You've been hurt, you _idiot!'_ Neville snaps but Harry's not conscious for long enough for him to understand. 

When Harry wakes up again he's in St Mungo's in a private room on the Spell Damage ward. Neville is in the visiting chair beside his bed and in the unguided moment before his partner realises he's awake, Neville looks besides himself with his hands interlinked in front of him, arms propped up on his jittering legs and looking ahead with a dying light in his eyes.

'Nev?' Harry tries tentatively.

Neville swivels towards Harry so fast he tips himself out of his seat, stumbling to the side of the bed. Even midfall, Neville has reached out and clasps hold of Harry's wrist.

'Harry! How are you? Do you feel alright?' Neville shots off, one after the other, before he's on his feet and halfway to the door. 'Wait - wait - _wait,_ I need to get the healer!'

Harry finds out from a combination of the healer and Neville (because his partner had refused to leave) that he had been jumped on his way to the Department of Mysteries. He had been chasing a memo for some information on a case he had been working on when he was attacked from behind.

Neville, who had been trying to catch up with Harry once he had discovered the missive on Harry's desk and had found the assailant trying to pull Harry's unconscious arse into the Love Chamber, which despite its "ever locked" title, was suspiciously open. 

Harry is numb as he remembers working on just a few cups of coffee for just as many days. His instincts weren't as sharp as they _should_ have been and -

There's a sickness crawling up his throat because the Love Chamber had absolutely _nothing_ to do with love. It had no reason to be in the Ministry but the magic was imbued into the very walls and air of the room; there was nothing to be done but seal it closed.

'I haven't left but I Flooed earlier and Jarsdel's investigating.' Neville says once the Healer has left. 

'Jarsdel?' Harry repeats in amazement. Once they had refilled the positions in the Ministry Jarsdel had gotten a promotion from Head Auror to Head of the DMLE after he had trained the first batch of recruits. Since then, the man had been _very_ busy. Especially since they had yet to pick out a new Head Auror. For him to take on more...

Neville shakes his head. 'You don't understand.' He says. 'An _auror_ was attacked inside the _Ministry_ by - what it sounds like - another member of staff. It - at the very least she's going to be charged with attempted line theft. Jarsdel - he was _outraged_. Kingsley is prepared to throw the book at them.'

 _"At the very least"._ The Wizarding World didn't like to think about sexual assault or rape, especially in regards to enchanted items and love potions and when they did, they never liked to think of it as anything other than line theft which was either solved through marriage or - back in the day - a forced abortion.

Harry didn't like to think about it like that. He didn't need to be seen as a _victim_. He had spent years feeling vulnerable, he didn't need a return to that pregnable state. He _couldn't -_

Neville reaches out again. 'Don't even go there Harry.' He commands like the fighter he had grown to be. 'I can see those thoughts in your head. This wasn't your fault. Not at all. _Stop it.'_

'Sorry.' Harry chokes feeling pathetic.

Neville holds on tighter. 

* * *

Harry has just had his night out back at Grimmauld Place after being released from St Mungo's. He sleeps in since he's got a week's leave but once he emerges and forces himself to get to the kitchen, hoping to make himself eat something, the first thing that he encounters is Kreacher's back.

'Kreacher?' He asks through a dry throat. The House Elf stills like the Killing Curse _just_ missed him but turns to face Harry after a second, wringing a paper in his hands. 

'Masters Harry, Kreacher's knows that he's bes hurting because of mad, nasty witch's but the paper's be saying horrible, muckraking things about Masters Harry.' 

Harry's toes curl and he thinks he stares for a moment too long because Kreacher is starting to look misty eyed. He takes a long inhalation and extends his hand. 'Let me see.'

Kreacher flinches. 'But the bad paper's bes smearing -'

Harry shakes his head. 'It's alright, Kreacher.' Kreacher reluctantly inches forward to give Harry the crumbled newspaper which he carefully accepts it.

Harry attempts to unroll it as he takes a seat at his table. The headline: “ **Potter And Love's Advantage At Ministry?”** Jumps out at him like a punch in the gut but he doesn't even get to what he knows would be a terrible article, before an owl is swooping through his open window.

The red, smoking letter in Pig's claws warns Harry before his tired mind can. He doesn't even have time to pull his wand before the Howler has erupted and Misses Weasley's screeching voice is piercing him like a Cutting Spell. 

**_"HARRY JAMES POTTER! I AM_ DISGUSTED! _HOW DARE YOU TREAT MY GINNY LIKE THIS! I THOUGHT BETTER OF YOU, YOUNG MAN. TO THINK YOU WOULD SHACK UP WITH SOME HUSSIE WHILE LEADING ON MY LITTLE GIRL! YOU WERE RAISED WRONG - WHY YOUR PARENTS WOULD BE ASHAMED BY YOUR BEHAVIOUR! WITH EVERYTHING OUR FAMILY HAS DONE FOR YOU -! YOU OWE US A HUGE APOLOGY AND UNTIL THEN YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME UNDER OUR ROOF -”_ **

The last of Misses Weasley's toxic words are cut off by Kreacher who snaps and chases both the Howler and Pig away while shouting equally foul words.

Harry sits on his chair numbly, paper hanging limply from his fingers. Vaguely, he notices, as he looks down that he's trembling.

 

> **"Dear readers, this reporter would like to inform the good Wizarding public that our Saviour might not be everything he seems! From an undisclosed contact at the Ministry, not a few days ago Harry Potter has said to have engaged in sexual activities with a co-worker in the department despite his long-term relationship with the only daughter of the Weasley family. After getting caught in the act this scoundrel concocted a story to save his precious reputation!...(Full article on pg 5.)”**

_Oh,_ Harry thinks as the article repeats and repeats.

* * *

Teddy is visiting and Harry is... _clingy._ Needier than his _toddler_ godson. It's shameful but Teddy seems to enjoy the attention and Andromeda is nothing but understanding with how his life has taken just another nose drive. 

He's not even half-way through his visit when there's a knock at the door. There's few people that could be since there is only a number who know where to find him and _fewer_ still that are talking to him. 

He'd decided after a rather desperate Floo to Neville who'd had Luna with him that he wasn't going to apologise. That he couldn't apologise for something he hadn't done. Misses Weasley hadn't wanted an explanation, though; wouldn't believe a word that he had tried to tell her. Ron wouldn't listen to him and the more he tried to argue the more guilty he seemed to Hermione. 

That left only a couple of people but he didn't have the energy to get up, not with his godson in his lap with a book in front of them.

'Kreacher.' Harry sighs tiredly. The House Elf pauses in his dusting (really just an excuse to be with the family though he should know that he didn't _need_ one to be included) and nodded.

The door was answered a moment later. There was an uttering of voices but Harry didn't pay them too much attention. Andromeda was another story.

'Miss Weasley seems to have decided to pay you a visit.' Andromeda says, deeply unimpressed. Harry feels his skin start to prickle but he doesn't move, even when a disgusted Kreacher guides Ginny into the living room. 

'Harry.' Ginny awkwardly addresses while flattening her skirt nervously but Harry barely gives her a glance as he continues to read.

 _'Harry.'_ Ginny says more insistently this time.

Sighing, Harry closes the children's book much to Teddy's disgruntlement. 'Yes?'

'I know that today is usually one you spend with Teddy but...I thought, well I've been thinking and - I just needed to tell you not to worry. We've been together awhile now and I - I did tell you that I wasn't ready for, _you know.'_ Ginny mumbled suggestively, obviously not wanting to go into detail with Andromeda and Teddy there. 'So...I forgive you.'

_Forgive?_

'How very kind of you Ginny.' Harry says somewhat sarcastically as the chip on his shoulder cracks.

'Right...I'll see you on date night?'

The acid is bitter on his tongue but maybe this is what he deserves. Harry nods silently and waits for her to leave. 

* * *

Twenty years old and Harry is at the angriest he has ever been. Neville has been seriously injured in a raid on a suspected Neo-Death Eater camp where the integrity of his wand arm was questioned and he is put on indefinite leave. 

Due to this and his good service, Kingsley gives Harry a quick promotion to Head Auror, taking the place of his trainer and mentor William Jarsdel who they had struggled to replace for some time. 

But Harry is far from satisfied. Being promoted so soon into his career put him in an uncomfortable position with quite a few members of the senior staff. He had voiced this to Kingsley, especially after another issue of the _Daily Prophet_ is released to the public. 

‘I trust you, Harry.’ Kingsley says in a way that doesn’t answer Harry’s concern.

‘Things are tense in the office, Kings’. One-half is glaring at me and the other is throwing passive aggressive remarks through our cubicles.’

‘You’re the head of their section now, Harry. Give them a warning.’ Kingsley had advised. ‘That, or simply sic Jarsdel on them. He’s still your superior.’ 

Harry had sighed but had agreed and left it at that.

* * *

One of the things that was required of Harry now is training the new recruits. Ron is among them and he is not amused but Harry does his best to ignore his silence. He starts by introducing himself which was somewhat unnecessary and then gets them to introduce themselves, and sets out for a speech that hopefully hits its mark.

‘Now, trainees. Look to your right.’ Hesitantly they do, they're standing in a long row in the auditorium for training and Harry is in front of them in a jacket he hopes is spell absorbent enough for any possible attack. ‘And look to your left.’ They follow instruction more quickly that time. ‘These are your fellow officers. Not all of you will choose to stay or be able to but it goes without saying that whether you are an auror or not at the end of this, while you are here, you are a unit. You will have each other’s backs. You will protect one another. That is the one key thing that I plan to instil in all of you during your training, because if you cannot look after a fellow auror then the same can be said for a citizen. People like that do not belong here.’

Harry could see their urge to talk but kept his stance strong. If the ministry wasn’t united than they were weak. If they were weak they couldn’t do their job. It was part of the reason Voldemort had been able to overtake the Ministry; that weakness and Harry had every plan to eradicate it. 

‘Any questions?’ Not one lifted their hand and Harry grinned. It was not a nice expression and internally snorted when a couple of men took a step back. Either his reputation proceeded him or there were some spines to build. Or to _break._ Whichever came first. ‘Good. Let's start.’

* * *

Harry stumbles his way into Jarsdel's office and the man takes one look at Harry and pulls a bottle of Ogden's Finest from the bottom draw of his desk. 

'Drink?' Jarsdel asks even if he's already pulling the cork.

Harry closes the door and he nods. _'Please.'_

* * *

Harry crawls into bed. His body is an unfeeling mess of muscle and skin and sweat. Ginny rolls over from his side. 'Harry, you need a shower.'

Harry groans. He knows he must smell like a pig; musky and sweaty and old. He's sticky and hot but he's also exhausted. 

'Harry.' 

With a shuddering breath, Harry forces himself back to his feet where he staggers to the bathroom. He falls asleep on his feet and wakes on the floor of his shower. 

* * *

His twenty-first birthday is spent moaning over his job. Neville is patting his shoulder with a false sympathy though his worry is genuine. Luna, who had joined them is staring up at the night sky is listening tentatively. 

There were few people here to celebrate it but it's still better than what he was ever given at the Dursley's. The Weasley's, even though they were talking now, things were strained and he now knows how it felt like to be Fleur with all that passive disapproval. 

Hermione and he talked but then they now worked in the same department and although she wasn't an auror as a secretary, fast-tracking to the top, they had a lot of contact with his own position as Advisor. Their relationship just didn't feel the same, however, and although she had been invited tonight she had already Owled back and told him she had work.

Ginny was now on tour, having gotten a place as a Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies since she had graduated and wouldn't be back for awhile.

Harry, however, didn't mind so much. He loved Luna and Neville. They were more than enough and it was a nice birthday. Quiet and understated and completely agreeable. 

Neville and Luna had pulled together for a watch that he had instantly put on and thanked them for once they had settled in Luna’s backyard. There was a picnic blanket under them that had animated animals woven into the cotton. Butterbeer was shared out with light snacks that Kreacher provided with the whole thing lit up by the flowers that surrounded them (“Moonlits” which was a breed of flower that Neville had created after his retirement. He was studying now, to be a teacher). 

In other words, it had been perfect with Andromeda telling him to come to her later for cake. Teddy - now five and adorable - had a card waiting for him with a present and was allowed to wait up for the “special occasion”. 

‘You could quit.’ Neville had suggested lightly, in a way that Harry had known that Neville knew wouldn’t have to be agreed to.

‘I can’t do that.’ Harry had replied instantly as he tilted his bottle side to side. Neville’s tawny eyes stared at him but the man ended up nodding instead of saying what was on his mind.

And he _couldn’t._ Neo-Death Eaters were still out there and he had recently come across some tightening laws for magical creatures that he had to do something about. So no, the work didn’t end so he couldn’t quit. There was still so much for him to do.

But it wasn't like the option wasn't there. McGonagall had been welcoming him to Hogwarts to teacher every so often - which he did and enjoyed - and liked to hint at a more permanent placement.  

 _‘Hmm…’_ Luna had hummed like the ending of a song. ‘You should be careful, Harry.’

Her words had been serious but Harry grinned and asked: ‘Aren’t I always?’ 

Neville snorted and that had been the end of that conversation. 

* * *

Harry’s on a mission with a squad: Ron and two old classmates of theirs with them. They were sent into investigate suspicious activity in the woodlands in Scotland where they had stumbled across a prison camp for werewolves. 

People were in _cages,_ collared and chained and Harry hadn’t thought for a second before ordering his team to move in. He was _disgusted,_ ants may as well have been crawling across his skin and he couldn’t begin to describe the sickness that choked him as he started to Hex every wizard that had been drinking around a campfire. 

It hadn’t taken very long to have every man and woman restrained and tied on the ground. He looked over them with absolute _scorn,_ hatred bubbling in his stomach but he stamped the fire out and made his way over to the cages.

The man inside couldn't even sit up and was in a bowed over position that made Harry very uncomfortable. His eyes - so much like _Remus’_ \- were staring at him mistrustfully, his lips were downturned.

The man was _petrified,_ shaking like his soul was going to jump out of his skin. The noises he made were airy and terrified. Getting on his hands and knees, Harry shushed. ‘ _It's okay._ It's okay. I’m Head Auror Potter. I’m not going to hurt you.’ He had said, voice as gentle as he could. Hoping if not anything, his name if not his tone could be used as some sort of aid. ‘Do you understand, sir?’ 

The man flinched away, inching to the back of the cage. ‘No, it's okay. _I swear.’_ Harry promised, lowering himself further to the floor and trying to make himself appear small which was not a hard task. ‘Tell me, what's your name?’ 

‘…Jim,’ was the response minutes later. 

Harry had to strain to hear but he nodded all the same. ‘Jim, then. How do you feel about getting out of here?’ He didn’t wait for an answer this time and instead forced the lock open via Alohomora. There was no other spell or ward but for a malnourished, bound and wandless wizard, it was without saying enough.

‘Harry what’re you _doing?!’_ Ron hissed from behind.

‘What does it look like?’ Harry had said through his encouraging smile, refusing to look behind him as he pushes the cage’s door up with one hand while offering the other to Jim who looks on it with an indescribable expression. 

‘Like you're letting what could be a deranged creature out of his containment?’ 

Something flared in Harry’s stomach and he watches as Jim flinched, the hand that had been reaching out with its almost skeletal fingers curling back. Fire burns through his chest and he clenches his teeth to stop his temper from roaring and frightening Jim and the others even more. He could feel the eyes, knew every werewolf there was watching him.

‘Ron.' Harry begins. 'Start taking the actual _“deranged creatures”_ to the hold-up -’

‘Harry -’

 _‘Now,_ Auror Weasley.’ Harry demands, reminding the man that although they were friends, that Harry was also his boss and that he was well out of line. Harry knows that he would have stepped on the boundary of Ron’s temper as well but that’s far from his main concern. 

‘Seamus, you alright there?’ Harry asked, again as he keeps his hand steady and waiting. 

‘Yeah, Harry. Me an’ Dean’s got ya.’ Seamus responded quietly from somewhere to Harry’s left and he nods, oddly grateful. 

‘I’m sorry about that, Jim.’ Harry apologised, toes curling in his shoes to finding some way to vent his frustration while keeping his shoulders relaxed. ‘Auror Weasley is just a bit…on the side of caution. I promise you that we’ll take care of you and the others.’ 

It had taken him _hours_ to get everyone out of their cages, to talk them into allowing him to take them to St Mungo's and that was only after swearing not to leave them. He understood why when he saw the healer’s reaction to discovering that he had a whole pack of werewolves to tend to. Harry being there and his refusal to leave had probably been the only reason that they were treated. 

Harry took their statements and used Seamus as a runner back and forth between his spot in the ward and the DMLE. Once he got out after four days of sleeping in a very uncomfortable visitor's chair and sending warning looks to discourage any…unprofessional behaviour, all the while keeping everything calm, Harry was well and truly shattered.

The next thing he knows and he is confronted with the _Daily Prophet_ which is promptly shoved in his face by Kreacher.  

> **"Endangering Lives? Head Auror Potter Allows Beasts Free!"**

The title was bold and stark with its black lettering on its white page. He honestly couldn’t bring himself to care because Harry would always remember Remus. Smart, unassuming Remus who held so many regrets. Remus who was so gentle but had grown up afraid of himself. Remus who wanted to be able to contribute but wasn’t able to work.

 _Remus_ and every other werewolf and creature who could be so much more than the Wizarding World seemed willing to allow them to be. 

Only a weak heart couldn’t accept something different to themselves and Harry had spent too long trying to be strong to be put off by the idea that just because someone could be a threat, meant that they _were_ one. Harry, himself, had been given a weapon and held one since eleven. That didn’t make him and every other member of wizardkind a wand-waving manic. 

Harry had had no apologises for his actions on that mission and he never would. 

‘What were you _thinking?’_ Hermione had snapped once he had sat down in his cubicle the next day. ‘Ron - _anyone_ in your squad could have been bitten!’ 

Harry promptly ignored her. Hadn’t believed that he would have to defend himself for his actions to someone who professed to be for equality. ‘My main concern was further harm to the  _victims._ They were trapped in cages like _animals_ and had obvious injures.’ He had stated curtly while looking through the papers that had been left on his desk through his absence.

(And honestly, as an auror your duty was to the people. _All people._ There was risk in that and Ron and everyone else with something to say about Harry’s actions that day should consider that.)

‘Yes - but - that’s not exactly it, is it? Those poor creatures could have been put through any trauma and you didn’t know how mentally stable any of them were! You put your whole squad in danger!’ 

‘If you're looking for an apology, Hermione, you're not going to get one.’ Harry had said with steady conviction. ‘I’d do it again.’ 

That was how he came out of as “Pro-Creature Rights” to the Wizarding World. He alienated a lot of people but also got some friends in some dark places with his approach to _“people deserving rights no matter how different they are, or what those differences were”._ Working some cases for DRCMC (or the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures) helped cement this opinion. 

* * *

'Is werewolves bad?' Teddy asked him and Harry thought he would be sick.

' _What?'_ He whispers, can't quite find his voice as he finds himself suddenly horrified. 

'The paper says youse were bad because the werewolves were bad.' Teddy states with bright blue hair and pink eyes.

Swallowing, Harry lifts his godson into his lap. 'Well...do you think I'm bad?'

Teddy expression morphs into something shocked and then adamant. 'No! Harry's good. Youse _read_ and _play_ and Granny say youse a - hero.'

 _Hero._ Harry almost laughs but he carries on regardless. 'And have you ever met a werewolf?' 

Teddy frowns but slowly shakes his head. 'Right, so how do you know they’re bad people?'

Teddy blinks and Harry can tell that the boy is a bit too little to fully comprehend this but he's also old enough to _remember_ and maybe that will be enough.

* * *

Harry's just come out of a Wizengamot meeting and he's storming the way through to his Advisor's office that gets used every blue moon. As soon as he's closing the door, it's opening again.

'Harry!' Hermione snaps.

Harry tries to remember the last time Hermione _talked_ to him without giving into the urge to lose her temper. They just didn't seem to be able to agree for very long nowadays.

'I don't want to do this right now, Hermione.' Harry sighs as he leans against his desk.

'Unforgivable's are simply _Unforgivable!_ I can't believe you would support a bill to -'

'They'd still be _illegal,_ Hermione!' Harry turns to stare at the woman standing between him and some nice peaceful silence. 'The sentence would just take circumstance into account -'

'There is no _circumstance_ for -!'

 _'Really?_ Because circumstance played a pretty big role in how _we_ used them during the war and how we were dismissed of charges -!'

'That's not the _same_ thing -!'

'How is it not the same?! We were _desperate_ and people were _dying_ but that doesn't change the magic we used -!'

'It was _war time!_ There was a dictatorship! Martial law was -!'

'Does that mean we have less moral responsibility?!' Harry demands with a raw throat and a pounding heart. 'Does that mean we didn't know _better?!_ You're going off on a technicality!'

There's fire in Hermione's eyes and anyone whose doubted that she shouldn't have been in Gryffindor deserved whatever hex was coming to them.  'You can't advocate for punishment when only _you_ disagree with its use when its convenient for you!'

Harry almost recoils. 'You think that's what this is about?! What's bloody _convenient?!'_

'Isn't it?!' Hermione demands like the answer is already in front of her.

That's the thing with Hermione once she thought she was right, there was absolutely no changing her mind. She'd get blinders and it was pointless to argue with her. 

 _'No!_ It's so a mother can defend her child without missing the rest of their life. It's about being able to get information out of a suspect in a hostage situation without prosecution. It's about - it's about being _unforgivable_ but being so in an unforgivable situation -'

'They're called Unforgivable's for a _reason,_ Harry! I can't believe you're trying to debate -!'

'You don't have to agree with it, Hermione but you're not even trying to _understand -'_

'Because I'm starting not to _recognise_ you anymore!' Hermione bellows which sends his office into silence but their heavy breathing. 'What....what happened to the little boy who was unapologetically righteous?' By the end her voice was small and so was she.

Harry's heart clenches. 'He grew _up._ Hermione, the world's not black and white. It's not just Dark and Light. It's so much more...complicated than that.'

Hermione's face sort of...shatters before it restructures itself into something harsher, colder. 'It sounds like a lot of excuses to me, Harry.' She says damningly, like a goodbye. 

* * *

He's now twenty-two and Harry had managed to turn public opinion well and truly against him. It had been a long time in the making but Harry couldn’t honestly say he was surprised that after he makes a comment - that contrary to popular belief - he didn’t actually _hate Purebloods and why would you?_ \- he’s treated with disdain.

He couldn’t remember why he had had to articulate the difference Purebloods and Pureblood Supremacists, just that afterwards his comments had ended up splashed across newspapers and he was getting sent death threats.

Although Harry had been perfectly reasonable in what he had said; had explained himself just _fine_ that is not what people had interpreted nor what the Daily Prophet had written about.  

> **"The Destroyer Of The Dark Lord Gone Dark?"**  
>  ****

The title had stared at him like he had stared at it from where he was sat at Andromeda’s table, her raging face gazing at him with a grandmother’s worry with Teddy in her lap and a frown pressed against her lips. ‘It’ll blow over.’ She had told him.

Grimly, Harry remembered looking at Teddy whose large aqua blue eyes matched perfectly with his hair. The little boy hadn’t stopped glancing at the front page that had one of Harry’s old Auror pictures on it since its arrival. 

He hadn’t replied and neither did she.

A Howler from the Weasley’s came not two minutes after.

* * *

Jarsdel walked into his Advisor office where Harry had started to take refuge in. 'How's being a Dark Lord treating you?' The Head of DMLE asks sarcastically.

Harry snorts and looks back down to a list of new recruits. 'Yes, I'm gonna be laughing my way through the next few weeks of training. Those recruits are going to have a Dark Mark and a fear of my authority by the time their sworn in.'

Jarsdel chuckles and sits a bottle of fire whisky down on Harry's desk. 'Figured you could use this more than me.'

* * *

By twenty-three, Harry was suffering the after effects of a Dark Hex that he had been Cursed with at a Ministry party that he had received getting into a particularly heated argument with one of the guests on “Mudbloods” and their rights - or how little of them they deserved.

(They had been one of the Wizengamot too; a Lord that Harry had butted heads with over the years.)

Surprisingly it had been Greengrass - Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass - who had defended him. A woman of composed voracity with dark brown hair and eyes shining in cold power, the colour of citrine. She had stood strong with a swollen belly, unafraid.

Though pregnant, that hadn’t stopped Morris from raising his wand again. Harry had just been quick enough to pull her behind him where she had intervened, leaving his back exposed for a Severing Charm to cut into his skin and muscle. 

Everything after that is a bit hazy but he remembers Astoria leading him to the Floo; how he had struggled every step as he hadn’t wanted to put any unnecessary strain on her or her unborn child. She had been stubborn about it, though. Must have to be to have agreed to marry a Malfoy.

Somehow she had gotten him to St Mungo’s where she had completely ignored the front desk. He lost consciousness with Astoria fielding questions from a Mediwitch. 

When he wakes, he’s in a bed in one of the few private rooms of St Mungo’s with a very irritated looking Draco Malfoy twirling his wand in a visitor’s chair. Harry hadn’t seen much of Malfoy, apart from at the Wizengamot where Malfoy who once loved being at the centre of attention, did his best to stick to himself. 

‘Potter.’ Malfoy greeted once seeing that Harry was awake. 

‘Malfoy.’ Harry returned, voice neutral but rough. A pause, ‘Is your wife alright?’ He had heard about the marriage, first through Andromeda mentioning it after reading it in the Announcement section of the Daily Prophet and again through whispers. The woman always brought about such conflicting feelings over the last few remaining members of her family. It was honestly sad. 

The man stared at Harry for a moment before breathing out, a sigh of pure exasperation. It honestly reminded him of Neville for a minute there.

’You haven’t changed, Potter.’ Harry had been surprised despite himself and had floundered for something to say. ‘You know you wouldn’t be in this type of situation if you weren’t trying to be everybody's friends.’ 

Harry raised an eyebrow. _Is Malfoy,_ He had thought, _trying to_ chastise _me?_  

‘Correct me, but I wasn’t actually a Hufflepuff. I’m not trying to make “friends” with people.’ Harry had scowled. ‘I was a Gryffindor - not that should matter anymore - I’m being my usual self and doing what I think is right.’

 _Not that you would know anything about that,_ Harry’s inner eleven-year-old sneers. But he’s past that, doesn’t have reason to try and agitate Malfoy beyond what his presence was already. 

‘Well, your “usual self” is a _fool,_ Potter!’ Malfoy glared, his wand now clenched in his fist. Despite this, Harry felt a sense of calm fill him. Malfoy had been trying to distance himself from his family name since Voldemort’s second rise and fall. Although his views had probably been altered very little, it wouldn’t be in his interest to harm Harry. ‘You’re going against your own image. You’re losing all the support you built up from your last suicide attempt.’ 

‘And you're upset about that? I got into this mess by defending your faction, Malfoy -’

‘Yes, you dunce, but not _yours.’_ Malfoy looked ready to pull his hair out. Or at the very least Harry’s. ‘Potter, your stupidity _honestly_ offends me. You can’t advocate for factions that you don’t _belong_ to. It's a politic nightmare -’

‘I don’t particularly _care_ all that much about politics. I never have.’ Harry states. _Yes,_ he was a part of Wizengamot now he had accepted his Lordship but he had quickly discovered how frankly backwards and circular a lot of their views and arguments were. ‘And, I don’t remember ever aligning myself with _any_ particular faction, Malfoy. Do you?’ 

That had at least seemed to bring Malfoy up short before he went back to sucking lemons. ‘Potter, I know this may be hard for someone of your limited intelligence to understand, but you can’t just - _pick and choose._ You’ll lose _everything.’_

Harry’s heart stalled and the desert that was his mouth burned. He closed his eyes for a moment, tired and resigned. ‘I can’t do this any other way.’ He admitted. He had given a lot for this country. He couldn’t censor what he believed in too. 

Harry hears Malfoy’s sharp breath, sounding almost startled and he wonders because that's the closest thing they’ve come to agreeing with anything. ‘…Potter, you know who you are. You’re making enemies with _everyone_ because you disagree with _everything._ However powerful you are, you can’t win against the whole Wizarding World.’

It had been and would be the most - dare he word it - _kind_ interoperation of “pick a side” he had heard. And it was from _Malfoy._ Harry had been getting it both ends with the Dark Faction he had been getting scorn for what contributed as “false intentions”. That he was trying to “Dumbledore” people to him.

On the other side, the Light Faction was cursing him for his betrayal because no matter what they pretended they didn’t actually care about Creature Rights or making things right with the Dark after Voldemort. It was more centred around pandering.

Harry had put himself into a precarious position with his open stances that were led by both sides. Like, _yes,_ he very much agreed that Muggleborns should be allowed into the Wizarding World and have all the opportunities that their Pureblood counterparts had. That didn’t, _however,_ mean that he thought all Purebloods were evil or that a majority of their traditions should be done away with because they didn’t jell well with all the uppity eleven-year-olds coming in this new World.

And as for Creatures, well, he thought that Clause Three of the Code of Wand Use was a crude attempt to stomp a group of people under another, while Werewolf Code of Conduct outrightly disgusted him.

‘I’m not trying to _win,_ Malfoy.’ Harry had sighed, voice sounding so very far away as he looked just over Malfoy’s shoulder. ‘Because I know I won’t. You’ve taught me that. This is about…this is about being _me.’_

Malfoy paused as if he could not believe what he was hearing. ‘What nonsense -’

‘I can’t give up everything, Malfoy. I can’t and I _won’t._ If the Wizengamot or the whole of the Wizarding World doesn’t like what I have to say then that's really too bad because they're not going to silence me.’ 

‘This is going to get you _killed.’_ Malfoy stated as if he could see the future. His voice though…it did not sound how it was meant to. It wasn't gloating or snide. It was flat, almost infuriated if Malfoy had, had the energy to care. Maybe underneath all those masks, he did. 

‘Probably.’ 

Malfoy hadn’t replied to that and had simply stood, raising with a practised ease and slipping his wand up his sleeve. He had put himself as Harry’s lead Healer as an excuse to talk but he had other patients to tend to. 

* * *

Ginny walks into the living room with a light limp which had been caused by a broom accident that had cost her her career. Her eyes look him from head to toe and doesn't ask how was he after being released from St Mungo's after getting injured himself. He isn't surprised.

'I've managed to find a job.' Ginny announces.

Harry's just gotten in and wonders why she's telling him this now. He asks himself what their relationship even _is_ anymore. 'That's good. Where did you -'

'I'll be working at the Daily Prophet.' She states. ‘I’ll be a Quidditch correspondent.'

Idly, Harry thinks this is what being stabbed in the back is really like. 

* * *

Another year later and Harry was standing in Kingsley’s office, shoulders squared and feeling every day his age. Kirkland is sat off to the side, looking resigned and pale.

Kingsley’s had his fingers interlinked in front of him and his mouth was set into a rather pained line. ‘I’m sorry to call you in here like this.’ Kingsley had apologised. 

Harry had inclined his hand. ‘No problem.’ 

‘…I’ve only got another year left until election starts.’ Kingsley had said, of which Harry had been aware. He sighed like his soul leaving him. His position had aged him like it had Harry only it seemed more evident with the elder man, who had been giving all his time since his first election to try and get England back on track. To make like Voldemort never happened.

With how cynical Harry had been feeling he couldn’t help but think,  _it's too bad this country's has been broken since the beginning._

‘With the figures, I’ve been seeing recently of my approval ratings I think it's more than likely we’ll have a new Minister For Magic.’ Kingsley had admitted. ‘And honestly, I’m ready to retire.’ 

‘The people are ready for a change.’ Kirkland confirms, lips straight. Harry always thought it odd how Kirkland could know his country's consensus but he was their Nation and Harry didn’t even blink. 

Kingsley had quite a bit of popularity; not just from his role in the Battle of Hogwarts but also for the respect he had built up over the years. However, it had been years and Harry could tell that a lot of people were getting restless. 

‘Harry, I -’ Kingsley stopped like he wasn’t sure where he was going or how he would get there. ‘Harry, when you came to work for me I first had to promise that I would not let you down…’ and yes, Kingsley had done his best to keep his word but with how difficult it was to be Harry Potter, it was doubly hard to be on his side. ‘I fear I have not -‘

Harry had held up his hand, a grim smile pulling at his lips that might have been hard to look at if the tightening of Kingsley’s eyes said anything about it. ‘Kings’, what is it that you’re trying to tell me?’ 

Kingsley looked at Harry, stared before he took a long, drawn breath. ‘I’m afraid without myself as Minister that…you won’t be able to continue to work at the Ministry for long. Or won’t have as many freedoms as you once did.’

Harry pauses. He knows that Hermione who had risen to a position as one of Kingsley’s Support Staff and that she was thinking of running for the next election. 

‘I’ve realised that.’ Harry replies without inflexion.

Honestly, tensions had risen and he was under no illusion that his job could be coming to its end despite his age and ability. He wasn’t worried about it. He made a lot of people uncomfortable if not agitated. He was most likely done. 

His career, Harry understood, could begin and end with Kingsley and that was…he was prepared for it. 

Kingsley grimaced. ‘Harry -’

‘You deserve better.’ Kirkland states clear and deep. Regretful. His eyes are piercing and Harry wonders what their Nation sees when he looks at Harry. ‘But then…you’ve always deserved better, haven’t you?’ He says far too knowingly which is enough of an answer for Harry. 

‘You work with what you’re given.’ Harry responds after a moment.

Tiredly and with impossible weight, Kirkland smiles. ‘Quite.’ He huffs a laugh. He sounds horribly old and perhaps it's terrible to think but he wouldn’t wish being a Nation on anyone. ‘Harry, without Kingsley I’m afraid that you’ll have to watch your back.’

Trepidation unsettles him even as he keeps his unruffled stance. ‘Have you heard anything?’ 

‘He doesn’t need to.’ Kingsley sighs with a weighty gaze. ‘You’ve…caused quite a stir, Harry.’

Which is putting it mildly. 

Harry stares at Kingsley, a Minister that had appointed Harry a top position and kept him on despite it affecting his own. He looks at Kirkland whose impossible; ancient and holding every secret their country had but regarded him with a level of respect he didn’t expect. He had come far from the young boy begging for answers, who near everyone looked down on to feel bigger. 

And yet.

‘Somethings never change.’ Harry murmurs, sullen and lonely despite being in a room with what he would consider two friends. 

He leaves not long after to a heavy gaze following him out. 

* * *

Harry is now twenty-five and now has both a new Prime Minister and Minister for Magic. He hadn’t expected the hung parliament in the Muggle world and Kirkland - who had been back and forth for both results - had had to leave to meet his two new Bosses, both of whom he wasn’t overly impressed with.

The new Minister for Magic, however, is in the form of one Hermione Granger, he would have put money on.

Harry pushes away the hurt when she sits him down with an air of detachment like they hadn’t been friends since eleven. Like he hadn’t saved her from a troll or like she hadn’t stood by him when no one else did. He tries to think of this: of the little girl with the amazingly frizzy hair and the bucked teeth who was always a little too smart as he looks at the cool woman in front of him.

Who tells him in a passionless tone that she didn’t want him as her advisor. He hadn’t thought she would. They talked less and less now even if he thought they were still friends. Harry just didn’t fully expect whatever this was.

‘You’ll have to be more careful from now on.’ Hermione tells him strictly, clear disapproval on her face. ‘As Head Auror, you represent your officers so I’m giving you a verbal warning right now, Harry. I can’t have you being so…controversial. We are in a very difficult time right now and being argumentative isn’t helping anyone.’

Harry frowned, bit his tongue to keep his initial response unsaid. It wouldn’t be appreciated. ‘What do you want from me, Hermione? I train and discipline my aurors just fine. My own politics shouldn’t -’ 

‘As _my_ Head Auror you’ll uphold certain standards or you’ll be removed.’

Harry thinks whatever friendship they had is lost in that moment. His face flattens and he agrees despondently. 'Of course, Minister.' He says as he pulls out his badge to remove his Advisory identification.

He wonders vacantly how long it'll be till she finds out he lied to her; if Hermione didn't already disbelieve him already. Harry thinks it won't be until he's handing over his badge too and he's unemployed.

* * *

'You saw what he did today, Hermione!' Ron exclaimed, hands in a death grip around his mug. Harry stopped short of the office door he had been about to enter at his friend's voice, looking through the crack at the two lovers. 'In Auror training, with those new recruits - he just - _disintegrated_  that dummy. Blasting Spells aren't meant to be able to do that! It's - it's unnatural!’

 _Unnatural._ The word had spun around in his suddenly empty head; knocking around the edges of his mind as his breathing froze in his throat. And he knew instantly, without them having to say, just who they were talking about. It hurt.

He had heard something like that before - from long ago when he was still just a scrawny, little thing living in a cardboard under the stairs.

But to hear it there? From a friend's mouth? Estranged though they were... Something in Harry cracked.

'I know. I know.' Hermione sighed to Harry's dismay. 'But he's always been like that: stumbling all over practised magical theory like it doesn't apply to him. It's - he's just _always_ been like that, Ron. I _warned_ you. He’s not the same anymore and with all that magic…’

And it was terrible. It was terrible because that was something they had joked about, with their voices of exasperated fondness when they were younger, but this time they weren't joking and their tones held no warmth - no friendliness, that could have made Harry feel welcome.

'Yeah, and I shoulda listened to you, I never do and bad things always happen!' Ron grunts. 'And - and now that freak's dating my little _sister._ What the fuck am I gonna do, 'Mione? He's  _dangerous!'_

 _Dangerous?_  No one had ever said that to him before, not even the Dark with all that they had insulted him. Was he no longer being a naive eleven-year-old really that intimidating? Was there really that much difference between him now and who he had been when he was doing what he always had and was trying to what he thought was, right?

Harry turns around and leaves, documentation still under his arm.

* * *

Really, Harry wonders as he waits for Ginny when it was that she last looked at him with passion; when she last touched him with any fondness. Maybe he had fooled himself into thinking that what they had was still there and that they had just gotten older. And didn’t that mean things getting… _steadier?_

And despite the criticism, Ginny had stayed with him. Things were rocky and sometimes she hurt him but that's what happened in relationships and when you were with someone you were meant to work on it. Now, though, Harry realised that he had been foolish. Ginny’s instance that they not touch, the lack of time she spent at Grimmauld Place. Ginny had been trying to distance herself. Maybe getting a job with the _Daily Prophet_ had been one of those messages, a sign she had been trying to give. 

The door handle turns and he prepares himself for an unpleasant conversation when Ginny opens it and steps through into the living room, she is looking through the contents of her handbag like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

‘Harry, Mum’s asked me for dinner -’

‘I think I’d like my ring back.’ Harry interrupts her as he watches her, his mind shadowing her form with the little girl he first met. He finds him doing that a lot. 

Ginny looks up, startled but…even after a moment of stillness, her face doesn’t shift into anything resembling sadness. She glances down to the promise encircling her finger before returning to him. ‘Why?’ 

His heart clenches. Harry had wanted…

‘Its about time, isn’t it?’

Ginny returns the ring without a fight and leaves just as quickly.

* * *

Kirkland visited him quite a bit - or as much as he could - as a Nation, he was constantly on the go and travelling for meetings and other work but when he was brought back into the Wizarding World, he would always pop into see Harry. Sometimes he would even bring his hilariously bad baked goods. This time he had Japan in toe. 

He was reading through a report when there was a knock at his door. He was exhausted with how much work he had even with losing one of his positions, it seemed like he always had something to and with how much he had been struggling to sleep…well, he barely had time to blink the haze out of his eyes before Kirkland was prancing inside with Japan trailing hesitantly behind him. 

‘Harry, old boy!’ Kirkland greeted, coming to a stop at his desk only to pause for a moment. ‘Bloody hell, you look awful.’

Harry didn’t even put down his pen (foreswearing quills) from his hand before pushing aside his fringe from his eyes. ‘Hullo.’ He sighs. ‘Nice to see you.’

Kirkland had only been back to the Wizarding World a few times, once was to introduce himself to Hermione. (She had found him absolutely fascinating once she had gotten her head over the shock of it.) To that point, however, Kirkland had missed a lot of the strain between Harry and his department and, well - _everyone._ ‘Harry -’

‘You’ve brought someone to meet me?’ Harry asks instead of allowing Kirkland to pursue what would probably be a headache for the both of them. 

Kirkland doesn’t answer for a minute before he sighs in resignation. ‘You remember Japan?’ 

‘Of course.’ Harry responds because how could he forget? 

Taking that as his cue, Japan walks forward. His steps are fluid and his movements are graceful as he looks at him with dark eyes. ‘It is good to meet you again, Potteru-san.’

‘And you, er…’ Harry stumbles, unsure of how to address the foreign Nation. 

‘Ah, Honda Kiku.’ The man smiles. ‘How fairs the fan?’

Harry lowers his pen to open one of his draws where he happens to keep it. Pulling the fan out, the weight is familiar in his palm. Its energy is almost friendly. ‘I think it's going fine, Honda-san.’ He wasn’t entirely sure he should be using the Nation’s human name but it was offered to him and he was more comfortable in using that than his country name. The honorific stiff on his tongue from his vague knowledge of them.  

Honda extends a hand with the other holding back the sleeve to his kimono (Harry thinks) back. Harry doesn’t pause before offering it back. Honda’s thin fingers take a firm but gentle grip on the fan and snapping his wrist to open it. His dark eyes trace over it before he looks back up at Harry. ‘You have taken good care of it.’

‘Of course, you gave it to me.’ Harry responds because honestly what type of person did Honda think he was? He hadn’t really known what to do with it mind, but he had felt like it was important, whether that was because Honda was a Nation or the object itself, Harry really couldn’t say.

‘I am happy to hear that.’ Honda says as he continues to examine the delicate folds of the fan. ‘It is very good gift though…it does not seem you know how you need to use it yet.’

Harry had known Dumbledore and he was friends with Luna. He knows what it's like for a person be cryptic. ’I’m afraid not.’

‘Hmm…’ Honda hums thoughtfully as he flicks the fan closed. He handled it like an artist did a paintbrush, beautifully but with an edge that seemed almost dangerous.

‘I hate to interrupt.’ Kirkland blurts out before more can be said as he stares at Harry with eyes that are all but glowing. Harry feels like he can see everything and maybe he can. ‘But _has_ something happened Harry?’

‘It's too long a list to get into.’ Harry dismisses as his toes curl. ‘Don’t worry about it, Kirkland.’

Kirkland waves that away with his hand as he leans forward. 'Now, now. None of that. Arthur will suffice, lad.’

Harry’s eyebrows jump up. ’…Arthur?’

‘Yes, now we’re well acquainted, tell me what's happened.’  Kirkland - Arthur commands ‘Kingsley leaving, we knew, would hit you hard I just assumed since Minister Granger -’

‘If you really want to know, _Arthur_ , then me and the new Minister don't get along. She finds my opinions repugnant now I no longer measure up to the idealised image she has of an eleven-year-old.’ Harry finds himself ranting as the temperature in his office rises. ‘I recently found out that half the people in my life think I’m dangerous and since my partner was injured I haven’t been able to get another one since I’m apparently too disagreeable to deal with, which means I’m stuck behind a desk most of the time, I got this job in the beginning to avoid this and - my finance - ex - _whatever,_ didn’t - she wasn’t -’

‘I believe, Potteru-san.' Honda interrupts before Harry can get anymore choked up. ‘That I may have a suggestion for this fan after all.’

‘Huh?’ Harry says with his usual air of eloquence but Honda stares back at him steadily. Harry wonders what he has to do to be that balanced. 

‘I gave you this fan because you had earned it.’ Honda explains though Harry still feels slightly lost; what Harry had done, he cannot see how it would benefit Japan, so both the Nation’s thanks and his gift confused Harry however sincere they were. ‘And it wanted you but you cannot find a use for it at present. I believe you will but…in order for it to aid you, I will have to ask you to trust me. Will you trust me?’

Harry can’t help but glance to Arthur - his own Nation - whose watching calmly. ‘…I think that's a lot to ask nowadays, Honda-san.’ He says eventually.

Honda huffs a gentle laugh. ‘Sadly, it is but I shall ask of it anyway.’

Harry shifts in his seat and really wonders what all this is about.  ‘…what do you want?’

Honda swiftly exchanges the fan from his dominant hand to extend it out to Harry. ‘Your hand, please.’ 

Harry stares at the pale palm in front of him.

‘Go ahead, old boy.’ Arthur encourages. ‘Japan isn’t one for subterfuge. It’ll be alright. I’m here, regardless.’

‘Arigatou.’ Honda says with a side glance to Arthur.

Harry offers his hand to which the Nation inclines his head thankfully and then goes on to look at it like he had the fan. ‘Hmmm…I sense that the fan would perish for the arm in the future... Yes. It will have to be the hand.’ 

_Perish?_

Honda gently turns Harry's arm over by his wrist to place the fan and stabilise it on his palm so it was resting all the way to his fingers. Harry was about to ask when Honda warns: ‘Now this may tickle.’

Honda places his other hand on top of the fan which starts to glow as the fan - much to Harry’s horror - disappears into his skin. Once Honda has withdrawn, the fan is no more and what remains is a phoenix fluffing itself up on Harry’s hand, seemingly alive in its tattoo shape.

 _‘Um.’_ Harry stares.

‘Do not worry, I have simply bound the fan to you.’ Honda states like he was talking about the weather. ‘It will aid you when you require it and so should I if you ever needed it, Potteru-san. Please remember that.’

Harry looks up, _“why”_ is on the tip of his tongue but, instead, he shakes his head. ‘I need a drink… would you like to pay mine a visit?’ He almost bites off his own tongue when he realises what he just said.

‘Looks like you need sleep.’ Arthur observes and yes, that would be nice except he’s been struggling with that aspect of his life.

‘It’ll help.’

The two Nations agree and they talk for some time while Harry finishes up the rest of his report. When they Floo to Grimmauld Place Kreacher proceeds to trip over himself to honour “ _Master Harry’s much great guests”_.

Their conversation is on the edge of serious but that's not before sake is introduced into the equation. (Harry has no idea where Honda pulled that out from and he’s not sure he wants to know either.)

* * *

Harry tries to carry on; stiff upper lip and all that, however much depression dragged him further into the darkness of apathy and fatigue. He hated his job and most of the public was brutal but...he still had people. 

Luna, eccentric and untameable Luna with a face that seemed ever-surprised and eyes that would looked at the world in a daze, would visit him every time the moon changed shape - something to do with interference - and would talk about things that Harry thought was meant to be very important, which he never really understand but one thing: the tone. They were _warnings._

Luna was warning him about something but then that was Luna all over, and he was just sorrier that he had never been good at hearing what she had tried to say. There was just so much against him that he couldn't even hazard a guess.. 

Harry would go to see Neville and his plants occasionally as well and he'd be greeted with a smile but there always seemed to be an air of worry; like something was coming but the only thing that was keeping it at bay was the silence of not speaking about it.

Neville who was reliable and had done so much for him in recent years would sometimes look at Harry like he was afraid that he'd disappear, and Harry was never sure how to respond to it. He was never sure if it had to do with Luna or the times they had spent as auror partners.

In the end, it took Andromeda and a mission going wrong for Harry to truly see what was going on around him.

The mission, of course, came first with things not going to plan.

Larson Tinningford, a piece of slime who was ambitions in all the wrong ways, jumped the gun on a group of suspected Death Eaters and it all went to hell after. Harry's squad - people he had known from school, people he had trained were being shot down like _flies_ and he knew - he knew he had to do something. 

Before it was too late.

Harry went all out for the first time since learning of Ron and Hermione's true opinion of him and just blasted through them. Through the Dark Magic and through the barrier they had erected once he had started to overpower them, with his team laying injured around him.

He had wanted to protect them - make sure that they could get medical attention as soon as possible. He had wanted to put the Death Eaters away for a very long time, for them to be brought to justice, for all the crimes they had committed and all the people they had hurt.

But Harry shouldn't have done that.

Harry should have kept his head down; kept his magic settled, like everyone had been hinting he should.

Harry should have - well, there were a lot of things he should have done. Point was, he didn't. He thought that because he was doing a good thing: his job. That it wouldn't matter that he could take down ten wizards who were dangerous enough to be put on the Ministry's Billboard of Unsavoury Faces.

Their expressions... Harry will never forget the way that looked at him when the smoke cleared. Nausea overcame him and forgetting the responsibility he held to these wizards, sent a Patronus for backup and medical aid before Disapparating. He stumbles through Grimmauld’s wards, startling Kreacher who was on him in a minute.

The poor House Elf doesn’t know what to do with Harry on his knees, heaving into one of the more expensive rugs. Kreacher goes from demanding to know if Harry was ill to if someone had poisoned him. He can’t find the breath to answer any of the enquiries.

Air has left him and panic only tightens his throat until he is curled up into a pitiful ball on the floor, crawling at his chest as his lungs stall. Blackness is capturing his vision as he stares desperately up at Kreacher. Kreacher who has taken so much from him. Kreacher who does so much _for_ him. Kreacher…

The absence of thought is comforting. 

And then he wakes up.

He is on his couch. A spring is digging into his back, his chest hurts, his eyes are heavy in his skull but his breathing - deep as it is - works. From the ceiling to the presence beside him, it takes longer than it should recognise the figure beside him as Malfoy. He looks…pale with tight lips and altogether too stiff.

 _‘Potter.’_ He near growls and Harry thinks back to age eleven and threats of _“my father hearing about this”_ and stupid, pointless duels at night. ‘You had a panic attack.’ 

‘Panic…?’ Harry’s voice is hoarse, faltering.

‘Yes.’ Malfoy snaps. ‘A _panic attack._ What in blazes happened?’ 

Harry struggles to swallow and almost immediately a glass of water with a straw shoved into his face. Bracing himself with his elbow, he shifts so he can drink; he didn’t realise how much everything was _burning_ until that first gulp. His eyes sting. ‘Just finished another mission.’ 

Malfoy blinks. ‘Yes? And what about it?’ Harry doesn’t answer right away, now awake a sense of numbness washes over him. He wants to sleep.

‘It was nothing -’

‘Seriously. You haven’t changed. I get pulled from work by a hysterical House Elf, transported practically against my will in front of my staff and my patients to have to deal with you, hyperventilating in your own vomit and you have the absolute _gall_ to lie to me? I don’t believe for one second this is about you getting scared over some _criminal,_ Potter, so why don’t you make both our lives _easier_ and -’

‘The criminals got scared over _me.’_ Harry corrects finally. ‘I’m…used to that. Maybe they have reason to be, even if I’ve never - but my squad,  _they_ were scared too.’ 

Harry doesn’t really notice how Malfoy’s expression settles from something frustrated to an emotion that was entirely too complex, almost solemn as grey eyes regarded him. Harry runs a hand through his hair, clenching at the strands. ‘They were terrified. Looked at me like - and I - I went to _school_ with them. Or I trained them. We work together. I’m - I’m the Head of their Department and - they were _scared_ of me.’

He knew people were _intimidated_ by him but -

He had _never -_

Never had he seen that before…

‘Deep breaths, Potter.’ Malfoy commands. ‘Inhale for five seconds, exhale in another. Keep to that pattern.’ Harry, again, thoughtlessly followed instruction. Everything felt so grey. So colourless. And he hated himself for that; for becoming so muted in a world that had once felt so wonderful. 

 _‘Honestly…’_ Malfoy finally sighs. Harry can’t identify the tone as he pressed his palm against the beating of his heart. ‘I _warned_ you, Potter. When I said to pick a side it wasn’t purely because it put you against both factions in the Wizengamot. People don’t recognise your fool self anymore; they don’t _know_ you.’

Harry stares, feeling off balance. ‘But I haven’t changed - I _haven’t -’_

‘You’re not a three-feet _-nothing_ , eleven-year-old anymore. You’re the wizard for defeated the Dark Lord -’

‘Exactly!’ Harry snaps through gritted teeth until Malfoy gestures for him to takes another breath when his gets wheezy again. It does not stop the hammering of his heart.

‘And you did it _effortlessly.’_ Malfoy continues like they hadn’t just paused for a few minutes for Harry to settle again. He remembers that Malfoy is a Healer. ‘You stopped the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries, _effortlessly._ Have a high position in the Ministry and are all over the place with your policies. You, Potter, are a _threat.’_

Malfoy says it like it's fact. Like Harry’s being practically thick and he’s spelling it out for him. Like Harry didn’t spend his childhood defeating his parent’s killer. Like Harry didn’t walk to his death. Like Harry didn’t then devote everything _else_ to building the country back up again. 

 _‘You_ aren’t scared of me.’ Harry knows this. He meets Malfoy’s eyes - the eyes he shares with Harry’s godfather and Andromeda - the eyes that had been looking directly at his all this time, and not once had they flinched away. Not once had they cowered from him. Not _once_ in all the years, they had known each other.

‘No.’ Malfoy agrees as he stands, setting the glass down on the coffee table as he raises. ‘Remember to breathe, Potter.’ He says as he starts to walk away. Harry watches him, silently. ‘Oh, and Potter? If I were, I’d give things a break.’ 

With those parting words, Malfoy is gone. 

Harry had the feeling that Malfoy didn’t just mean a “break”.

* * *

The following two days had been days off of his and after spending one in bed, curled up in the dark with Kreacher standing in the doorway, large almost glowing eyes watching him. The silence was what he had wanted by then his thoughts tormented him. 

He got up and went to visit Andromeda. He needed someone to discuss things with and she always helped him. Was always prepared to _listen._

As soon as he arrived in the living room (he had been given access to the wards,) he knew something was wrong. Andy rushed into the room with an alarm running through every line of her body as she all but collided with him. Her face was exhausted and she appeared on the brink of tears. 

Harry brought his hands up to steady her, went to ask what was wrong; if Teddy was already but she was already babbling at a speed. Something had deeply broken her composure, left her int his state.

‘Oh - _oh,_ Harry, dear, you shouldn’t have come.’ She says while trying to contain a sob.

Instantly, Harry is on-guard and he tenses. ‘What - what are you -?’

Neither got the chance to say another word before the door to the lounge door was burst open and obviously breaking a Silencing Spell setting it, because suddenly Harry could hear Teddy's cries, his screams of: 'Uncle Harry! _NO!_ Uncle - Uncle Harry run! _Run,_ Uncle Harry!’

Harry's first instinct was to step in front of Andromeda. To protect her from intruders and he did but he noticed immediately that one of her hands - her hands so much like her daughters, elven but strong - gripped hold of the back of his shirt, limiting his movement and stopping him from drawing his wand.

'Wha -’

Harry didn't even get the chance to question it or to fully take in Andromeda's devastated face before red light was racing towards him and everything turned black. He just felt himself hit the ground before everything disappeared.

* * *

When he woke up he was being held in one of the Ministry's Interrogation rooms, strapped up with magic-damping cuffs and his missing wand which was in a stasis field on the table in front of him. An intimidation technique: the wand chooses the wizard after all. What they don't tell you is that the wand  _knows_ the wizard too.

'Jarsdel?' Harry had choked groggily. The man was sitting in front of Harry with his arms folded and his head hanging, expression pinched and somewhat pained. Despite the situation, Harry should have taken comfort in at least having Jarsdel there. He did not. 'What - what's -’

‘You know the problem with a lot of good people?’ Jarsdel said almost conversationally, something that instantly put Harry ill at ease. He had known this man from the start of his Ministry career. 

Jarsdel had been the one to train him. To show him how to write an arrest warrant. To show him through all the paperwork once they had both been promoted and Harry had replaced him as Head Auror. Who always seemed to know when to get the alcohol out and could dance Hermione into a murderous rage. 

Jarsdel who was abrupt and vague but who was an amazing person; a good person despite what his square jaw and slanted eyes might tell someone. Jarsdel who know looked like he was being crushed by the badge on his chest. 

‘…There aren’t enough of them?’

Jarsdel snorted sardonically but there was a horrible bitterness about his mouth, that had Harry thinking he agreed anyway. ‘They’re so good that no matter how much they’ve seen of human cruelty, no matter how intelligent they are, they can never fully see the bad side of the people around them because it's so outside their realm of compression they’re blind to it.’

Harry’s throat was dry already but on hearing that - and looking around the Interrogation Room - he knew that something was very wrong, and it had his insides twisting. ‘Why have I been taken into custody?’

Jarsdel, however, ignored him and continued with a dead voice: ‘I knew this would happen eventually. I knew from the second I got to know you that this world would destroy you. It always does, with people like you.’ Harry felt his stomach drop to his toes, a rush of anxiety hitting him over the head enough to disoriented him. ‘I warned Kingsley. You’re just too different. Too powerful. You don’t give a damn about the status quo. Blood purity means nothing to you. You’re too unpredictable and too bloody incorruptible to use. It makes the Muggleborns distrust you, the Purebloods unable to stand you and the Wizengamot desperate to get rid of you.’ 

Jarsdel talked like this was Harry’s eulogy; a parting sentiment and it was then that Harry truly felt his restraints. Jarsdel had been an auror for longer than Harry had been alive, was a cynical Pureblood that didn’t really belong anywhere. Who was an outcast but one with occasional influence and was happy that way.

 _‘What am I being charged with?!’_ Harry demanded desperately looking at Jarsdel with large eyes.

Jarsdel closed his own in a way that was so resigned and awful that Harry could look away, however much he wanted to. Shuddering a breath, the man answers: ‘Harry James Potter you are under arrest on suspicion of undermining Ministry powers, associating with illegal creatures, breaking of protocol -’

‘Don’t bullshit me!’ Harry shouted in a voice that rattled around his head, unfamiliar. The answer, however, cut off as it was enough for him to understand his situation. A dark smirk morphed his expression into something cold to hide his fear, the tingling of betrayal crawling just beneath his skin. 

‘“Undermining Ministry powers”?’ Harry repeats before goading: ‘what is this? A _dictatorship?_ Come on, Jarsdel. Give me a straight answer.’ This act wasn’t working, not if Jarsdel’s palpable sadness was anything to go by.

Jarsdel was silent for a moment before he leant forward, elbows pressed against the table that separated them. ‘Its new. Our Minister was…concerned. With a new Voldemort appearing. Or, that's the argument she gave in the emergency Wizengamot session she called last night. Its clauses…’ 

Everything was suddenly hideous clear. ‘…I’ve…I’ve broken every one of them, haven’t I?’

Jarsdel didn’t need to respond. Hermione was smart. She was _brilliant._ She was good at her job, knew the Ministry and its system inside and out and was horribly competent. She had also learnt a hard lesson during the war and that was how to bend rules. It had always been in his favour before. 

‘I think the reports about how… _“unstable”_ you were on that mission, from your squad was what -’ Jarsdel tried to theorise.

‘Stop.’ Harry tells Jarsdel. He doesn’t need to be told what was already painfully obvious. ‘Before Hermione was the Minister and past the war, she was my best friend. I don’t need this to be explained to me. She thinks I’m dangerous. That I’m a threat to the Wizarding World. This is…’ he thinks he’s crying. He’s not sure anymore. ‘This is brilliant. She - _takes care of it_ without having to kill me. And this way she can turn it into her favour. And - and no one voted against this did they?’ 

Jarsdel lips were pulled down and his eyes were glassy. ‘A few. I swear that _a few -’_

Harry laughed. It came out a sob. He doesn’t have the strength to feel embarrassed about it anymore. ‘I’ve - Will, I’ve given everything to the Wizarding World -’

‘Outside your comprehension, huh?’ Jarsdel mutters ironically, fond and all manners of pained. ‘Harry…’ he begins but trails off, obviously not knowing what to say.

Harry stares at this man. The friend he had found in his superior and whispers over the lump in his throat. ‘What happens now?’ It doesn’t matter that Jarsdel had no words. They had had good times and Harry still had his regard. That was all that mattered.

Jarsdel’s face is completely blank after a moment. ‘I help them destroy your life.’ He replies while removing a viral from the pocket of his trousers. He places it on the table for Harry to see the Ministry’s stamped cork. It was not traditional to drug convicts. As in, it was illegal. 

‘Ah.’ Harry says. 

 _So. This is how it’s going to go,_  Harry thinks dispassionately as Jarsdel stands from his chair with poorly hidden agitation. The man rounds the table and roughly pulls Harry’s head back by his hair. Feeling Jarsdel’s fingers trembling against his skull and Harry understands that they are both as trapped as each other. 

Jarsdel opened the potion with his teeth, roughly and with an air of aggression as he spat the cork out across the room. When his other hand squeezed Harry's jaw he complying opens his mouth and allows whatever was in that viral to be poured down his throat.

There was no getting out of this. Even if he overpowered the restraints he wouldn’t be able to make it out of the Ministry. The one time he had broken out was with Ron and Hermione and even with the aspect of surprise and disguises, Ron had been seriously injured. Harry wouldn’t have anyone, everyone in the building would be tense and ready for him. He’d be lucky to make it off of the Floor. 

The potion takes effect quickly. Harry starts to feel dizzy and the room spun but he was conscious enough to feel the older man's arms wrap around him, allowing Harry to lean against him instead of the coldness of the stool. 

Jardel’s harsh hands turned soft, like a father's touch as he holds Harry. _It doesn't matter,_ Harry thinks, refusing to look anywhere but Jarsdel and all his powerful anger.  _Whatever it is - I have nowhere else to go._

Distantly as his vision turns black, he can hear apology after apology uttered into the otherwise silence of the room, and he smiles, whispering a numb assurance. It was just as well as not a moment later he lost control of his body altogether.

A door opened and heavy footfalls followed. 'Is it done?’

'Yes.'

'We can move him now he's been secured -'

‘ _Head Auror Potter_  will be ready for transfer in ten minutes when the potion is fully absorbed.' Jarsdel snaps. 'Now get _out_ until I call you.'

Arms tightened around him. 'Sir -'

'OUT.'

And then his hearing was gone too.

* * *

The next time Harry is conscious - or aware - he's in a cell. It's dark. It's cold. And he can tell with a lurching gut that it's Sirius'. The Wizarding World had a sick sense of humour.

Harry was put into Azkaban. It takes a moment to process that and he spends the next ten minutes wondering if he had, had a trial or if he had simply slept through it. Either way, he doesn't think it matters too much. If the Wizarding World wanted him there, he would have been sentenced either way.

Harry remembers very little of that time: the days seep into one another, greying and fuzzy. In some respects it's a relief, in others it's just another sign of his own weakness. And the Dementors liked that; liked his helplessness, almost as much as they liked to feed on the chinks in his armour. With all the pains that had grown since he was merely thirteen and his one, terrible memory had been his mother screaming her last breath he must be favoured amongst the creatures.

He finds out soon enough though that Andromeda and Teddy have managed to get visitation. He discovers this after being woken up with Teddy shaking his shoulders and Andromeda attempting to hold him up, from where he was dangling from his chains. For one horrible minute, he had panicked, thinking that they had been imprisoned too.

It took half-an-hour for Andromeda to calm him down and then longer to explain what had happened.

‘I’m - I’m so, _so_ sorry, Harry.’ Andromeda whispered the words themselves were a shame all on their own. ‘A team of aurors demanded access to the house and then showed me your arrest warrant. I - I told them that you weren’t there. That I wanted them to leave but the office knows you spend a lot of time there and knew it was their best bet.’

It had taken moments of stretched out time for Harry to process that but he nodded in slow movements to show he understood. It had been a long time since he had spoken and he hadn’t been entirely sure that he remembered how. It made sense, though, once he had worked the words out. 

‘They’ll never forgive me, not when I reach the great beyond. Sirius will be furious, dear Remus will scorn me and - and Nymphadora - my Nymphadora -’

Harry couldn’t connect the pieces for Andromeda’s ramblings and tried swallowing to ask. ‘Wha-? You…you’ve done - done nothing wrong.’ He uttered, voice so soft he couldn’t hear it under the frail beating in his ears. He couldn’t blame Andromeda for how she reacted to the situation. The poor woman had Teddy to look after.

‘No, Harry.’ Andromeda told him gently, her ageing hands stroking his sunken in cheek. She had blessedly loosened his manacles so that the chains would allow him to sit. Teddy was in his arms, acting like a blanket against the ice that breathed in through the cracks of the walls and it was the warmest he remembered being. ‘No you don’t understand. I would have - _done_ something. Warned you. But - the warrant - it said that they had permission to use lethal force if you resisted so - so I -’

Harry had blinked up at her face which was every bit as distressed as the night of the arrest. Cloudy as his mind was, he still recalls her small hand holding him back, probably saving his life in the process.

Weakly, Harry shook his head. ‘Woulda - would have happened anyway.’ He said with certainty, knowing that even if he had fought, it wouldn’t have done him any good. ‘Just the way things are. My fault for…for being too _dangerous.’_ The words were like acid in his mouth.

Instantly, Teddy peeks out from where he had his face hidden in Harry’s now long hair. (Really, how much time had slipped away? He hadn’t noticed any of it. He wonders if this was what it was like for Sirius. Sirius.) ‘Uncle Harry’s not dangerous! Uncle Harry’s - Uncle Harry’s a _hero!_ You save people! You’re an auror!’

Harry closed his head, tired and without any fight, without the fire that burned in his chest. ‘No. I _was.’_ Before he turned to Andromeda who seemed pained by the correction. ‘Whats happened since I was thrown in here? And…how did I get here - and when? Answers, please not in that order.’

Andromeda hesitated, biting her lip in a nervous gesture that Harry hadn’t seen before. Maybe he was worse than he thought. ‘You…you don’t remember?’

Harry’s chest tightened but he lightly shook his head. ‘Remember what?’

‘The trial. Your trial.’

Harry felt himself sigh, a resigned sound as he quirked what was meant to be a smile at Andromeda. He was out of practised and wasn’t at all surprised when she grimaced. ‘I was given one then?’

Andromeda’s face seems to collapse and as numb as Harry’s body felt to him, he could sense Teddy tightening his trip on his feeble frame. ‘…I…’ she wavered, obviously uncertain as she looked away altogether.

‘Just tell me, Andy.’ Harry says, feeling a hundred and slipping from life. ‘Just…just tell me.’

In a rush of words, Andromeda explained the "trial." How Harry had been dragged in with half-cast eyes and restrained in the convict's chair, centre seat in the middle of a hateful crowd in the pit of the court. How Harry had obviously been suffering from some sort of potion and couldn't respond to any of the statements that were taken; how he hadn't seemed aware at all. How many people came forward as witnesses to support the case, some being old friends, co-workers and even the people Harry had once trained.

How Andromeda, who had attended the three-hour hearing, hadn't even understood how what Harry was being charged with had been brought to court. That she thought it was the biggest disgrace she had ever seen and that she had seen many. 

She talked about how the Wizengamot quickly sentenced him to Azkaban, citing that he was against their way of life; the establishment. How the warden had then stepped forward, his officer faithfully following him. How Andromeda had stood from her seat in shock when she had seen them and the chest the officer carried.

As soon as Harry heard this his vision snapped to where his hands were dangling, just higher than his head: stiff and tight manacles enclosed around his wrists, and just under those were golden gauntlets. Gauntlets that only the worst of criminals would be fitted with: the Limiters for the amoral.

Once they were on the seam and clasps of the gauntlets would meld together, leaving them skin tight and impossible to get off. Their function? Stopping a Witch or Wizard from accessing their magic. The metal was magic-null and anything cast would be rebound. Harry had read about desperate witches and wizards cutting off the arms to try and get rid of them, only for the gauntlets to poison them, leading them all to death.

The feelings that welled up inside Harry and what the gauntlets meant was something - even years later - he would struggle to explain. Just that it was his darkest emotions he had, had and it suffocated him to the point of hyperventilating.

For what was he without his magic?

What would he do without it?

How did he - how could he defend himself?

Live without it?

_Live at all?_

He lost conciseness as it all got too much for his weakened and ill state and he slumped back, against the brick wall behind him to Andromeda's and Teddy's worried voices

* * *

The next few months afterwards, the Dementors just wouldn't leave him alone as dread and depression clutched hold of his heart, with icy detachment and the heat of righteous anger. 

‘Harry?' 

'Uncle Harry?' 

Sometimes Harry didn't respond - didn't know how to, had gone whole visits without saying a word but in exhaustion, he finally answered: ‘Why?' His eyes are closed, too weak to open them and without the strength to see his new reality. _'Why_ are you here. How are you here?' 

He knew that it was close to impossible for people to visit convicts in Azkaban. It was usually done through dirty deals but Andromeda - despite the close resemblance she had held to her elder sister - wasn't that type of person and never would be. She wouldn't stoop so low.

He heard the woman's sigh but she didn't keep him waiting. 'Do you remember making Teddy your heir?' 

Yes. Yes, he did. Harry had done that soon after discovering how… _afraid_  he made people. He didn't want his family vaults in the hands of the Weasley's no matter how much they could have used the financial support, he had  _some_  pride and wanted the Potter name to be left with someone who cared about what that meant. 

Teddy was _beautiful_ and  _his_ and would tell Harry every day that he loved him. A special moment was when - on seeing the photo of Harry’s parents - his godson had said how much Harry _looked like his mother and how she was pretty, how his father seemed kind like Daddy,_  sealed it for Harry. That it was an act of defiance against the Ministry who hated Teddy for what Remus was, but would want his money, just made it all the sweeter. 

'Teddy's had his thirteenth birthday, Harry.' Andromeda told him gently. 'With my help, he petitioned to take over the…Potter Lordship. The Ministry didn't want to allow it, but the Goblins pushed it through. With Teddy as Head Potter, he can demand visitation.'

'Teddy - Teddy's thirteen now?’ Had he missed his godson’s thirteenth birthday?

‘I’m…sorry, Harry. If I knew of any other way - if I was able to get you out of this hell hole - if we could -’

Without feeling, Harry interrupted. 'It doesn't matter. If I didn't want Teddy in my family, I wouldn't have made him my heir.' He told her. 'It's not like I'm ever getting out of here anyway.’ 

'Uncle Harry.' Teddy protested softly. 

'You two should leave.' Harry informed them listlessly. 'You don't belong here.’ 

'Uncle Harry!’ 

'I don't want you coming here again.' Harry continued. 'You're putting yourselves in…in _danger._ Just stay away.’ 

'Now, see here -' Andromeda started but Harry was well past caring at this point. 

'No. I don't want you here. You should never have come here to _start_ with.' Harry with one dying push, opened his eyes and stared straight at the last two members of his family who huddled together by the door against the cold - against his gaze. The _last_ two people that had been entrusted to him. 'I'm a dead man. Look at me, really _look_ at me. I'm not getting out of this one. Think of me as buried in Hogwarts and move on. Stop looking back at my body and live your lives.’

Andromeda's face was both shocked and appalled, her hand on Teddy's shoulder tightening, colour gone from her cheeks as Teddy cried. 'You don't _mean_ that! You don't mean that Uncle Harry!' Teddy shouted like he had shouted at Harry the night they took him away. 'You're _stronger_ than this, I know you are! You're stronger than  _them!’_

'Teddy.' Andromeda warned but her heart wasn't in it as she looked at him.

'No! _No_ Granny!' Teddy frantically shook his head. 'Harry  _is_  stronger than this! He can get over this! He could stand if he _wanted_ to!’ 

What a pathetic picture he must have made. 'Kid, I'm not going anywhere -’ 

'Stop! _Stop it!_ You could. I know you, Uncle Harry! I know you can! Stop - stop _wallowing!_ You could do anything, I know because I've _seen_ you. I know because I  _believe_  in you.’ 

Something shifted in Harry's chest but he pushed it down. 'I'm a useless pile of bones, Edward -’

 _'NO!'_ Came Teddy's forceful scream startled even Andromeda. Harry jolted backwards, knocking his head against the stone. Teddy took a step forward, swinging a fist as his eyes burned into a deep black with a fire of red fire smouldering just underneath the surface. His hair, which was still long from their last visit threw itself into a electrocuted frenzy. 'No, you are Harry James Potter, my  _Godfather._ You're an _auror_  who worked every day to save lives! You're a  _soldier_  that stopped a war! You're a  _man_  and you're _alive_  and I'm. Not. Going. _Anywhere.’_

'Teddy…' Harry whispered, wondering vaguely if this was _really_ the little baby boy he first held. The first child he had fallen in love with but there was Tonks in how he glared stubbornly back to him, daring Harry to argue. There was Remus in the sneer of his mouth, in how he stood. There was the Black's -  _Sirius_  in his determination; his stubborn loyalty. 

An energy pulsed in the air, something not unlike magic but that would have been - _impossible,_ not in Azkaban. 

And suddenly Harry couldn't argue, didn't want to disappoint everything Teddy was; everything he represented. Couldn't fail that little boy who used to look up to him like could do anything. Like Harry was a hero. Like Harry was _better_ than he was. That unconditional love every child had for a parent, Teddy had given him without knowing and just kept _giving_. And Harry knew he would do whatever to keep it, but this… 

'I'm…' Teddy said, shoulders hunching and his tears falling. 'I won't ever give up on you. So you can't either.’ 

'Teddy I'm not…without my magic….' Harry trailed off, glancing to runes carved into gold with all the grief he could feel for himself. 

Another pulse resonated between them. 

'Stop being stupid!' Teddy snapped, shocking Harry again. 'You aren't just your magic! Besides your magic's still there - it's…it's just…a little harder to get to now.’ 

Harry looked back to the gauntlets. Teddy wasn't wrong…His core remained untouched. Safe. But…'I - I don't know - I don't know how to…how to be that person anymore, Teddy.' Harry admitted quietly, the sound barely leaving his lips. ‘I've…forgotten…' 

The infuriated air about Teddy vanished, abating into something tender - something far too old to be seen on someone so young. Teddy left his grandma's side and walked forward, a weak smile on his lips as he knelt down in front of Harry, kindly linking their hands together.

As soon as their skin touched a jolt of that same - something, that was in the air earlier, ran down his arms and travelled along his spine. Harry's back arched in surprise, his hair standing up on end. _'Wha_ \- what was that.’ 

Muted joy shone in Teddy's eyes. 'I've learnt a lot since you've been in here. History, politics, magic essences.' He said. 'It was a condition to maintaining your - my title.’ 

The term rattled around in the fog in Harry's head before he gave up. 'Magic essences?’ 

Teddy nodded. 'Every witch and wizard have magic right? And blood doesn't change that, but there are different types of magic.' He explained slowly, seeming to understand how ill Harry was. 'I found out that I have a red aura, which makes me a Storm Elemental.’ 

 _Elemental?_ Harry knew a bit about them. They were wizards who held control of fire. The joke around the office had been that it was the power of spontaneously combusting without the commitment of actual combustion. There had been…five types - maybe more, with each type having a different ability that was responsible for separate traits.

_But…_

'I - I don't understand.’ 

'I didn't to start with either. Someone’s type of magic can be important even if the Wizarding World doesn't think it matters anymore. Different types have different characteristics: Storm type can very…aggressive and hard to control.' Teddy said, his hands tightening around Harry's, that strange energy still travelling down his arms. 'And guess what, Uncle Harry? Your aura’s orange. Not just that, you're an Elemental, I can tell.’ 

Harry didn't know where this is going but Teddy found it important - he spoke with such an overwhelming sense of happiness - so Harry would at least listen. 'Okay, I'll bite. What does that mean?’ 

'You're a  _Sky,_  Uncle Harry. An active one, more importantly -  _My_  Sky. _You're my Sky._  I figured it out when my teacher was explaining the part about Elemental Bonds. Of course, he had an idea that I had attached myself to someone but - but I just _knew,_ before he mentioned it - that it had to be _you.’_

Harry didn't know what being a Sky meant just then and he'd be whatever Teddy wanted to him be but this wasn't helping his headache. 'Teddy - Teddy, Love, I…you'll be able to see that I'm not in a good way, you'll…have to elaborate for me.’ 

Excitement bubbled in the air between them almost strong enough to soothe away the pain that was still much too present. ‘Don’t you understand? Uncle Harry, the Limiters were designed for your magic. Not Elemental energy. That can’t stop that. You still have _power,_ Uncle Harry. They didn’t take everything.’ When Teddy released his hands, Harry barely felt it as his mind froze, but then his Godson was reaching into his robes and pulling something out. Something that he probably shouldn't have been able to bring into Azkaban. 

Teddy held it out to him and Harry tried to focus on what was between Teddy's index finger and thumb. All he could really make out was something small and shiny. ‘This is an Elemental Focus to help Elements channel their energies. It's meant to help new but active Elementals reach their core. I found it in the Potter Vaults. It was something like your…great, great, great, great grandmother's. It's a silver hair bead - thing.’ 

Harry snorted, the first bit of humour tickling Harry's heart. 'Thing?' He repeated. Teddy calls what must have been a priceless artefact a _thing?_

Teddy pouted. ‘Well, sorry for not being an expert on jewellery.' He retorted before he crawled behind Harry, ducking under his Godfather's limply hanging arms. 

'Teddy?' Harry asked in worry, tensing as Teddy started to pull at his incredibly tangled hair. He almost wanted to stop him, it couldn't be very clean and it felt unpleasant with how sore his scalp was.

Teddy didn't answer his silent question of  _What on earth are you doing?_ And instead whistles. 'Your hair's really grown, Uncle Harry! It goes all the way down your back!’

'Yeah? Explains the itching.' Harry says with dull sarcasm as Teddy seemed to gather all his loose hair. It was actually a relief to have it out of the way but that was beside the point.

'I'm just giving you a ponytail, Uncle Harry. I'd try a plait but…' Teddy trailed off, 'I got Mum's clumsy gene.’ 

Harry appreciated that. 'Right.' He paused. _'Why_ are you playing with my hair?’

'Uncle Harry! I'm not playing with it! I'm putting the bead "thing" in.' Teddy said and there was a smile in his voice. 'But of course, as Lord Potter, I'm simply doing this as an act of pity so you won't further disgrace our House. And if you happen to use the Focus, access your Elemental Magics and escape. Well,  _I'm_  hardly responsible. How should _I_ have known it was a power artefact?’ 

Harry heard the click of the beads clasp locking, felt the weight of the metal and the spark of something from his chest. He could barely stop the shudder that racked his form and instead tried to focus on his wonderful, _brilliant_  godson that was coming back from behind him. 'Teddy even if I was able to do any of that -’

'You will, I know you will.' Teddy interrupted with such absolute faith that Harry started to believe him. 

'The Wizarding World would be…it would be _furious_ if I broke out and the first people they'd come after would be you and your grandma. I can't -’

'Oh, _please,_  Harry. I'm not so old that I can't handle myself and my grandson.' Andromeda sassed from where she had been silent up until then just as Teddy started up on another rant.

'All due respect, Uncle Harry, but shut up.' Harry's jaw snapped closed. 'I never asked you to be a martyr, the only thing I want from you is for you to get out of this cell, find somewhere nice to live, settle down with someone who'll look after you and will give me some brothers.  _That's_ what I want from you.’ 

‘Teddy -’ 

'It's what I _want.'_  Teddy cut over him, eyes staring straight through him as stubborn as his mother _ever_ was but unselfish just like his father. 

Harry breathed in and closed his eyes. 'I _love_ you, Teddy.' He whispered to the darkness and with that, acceptance to what Teddy was asking of him. 

Arms encircled his neck, hair brushed against his face and the words were whispered back. 'I love you too, Dad.'

* * *

It took Harry months - three exactly - and a Dementor getting too close for him to access the Flames in his chest. It is an indescribable feeling; like being free and coming home all at once. It's like he can _breathe_ again after a live time of drowning. The Dementor dies with a _scream_ of a thousand voices overlapping from the force of the orange light that was flowing out of him.

Its a loud, awful death and the body dissipates into shadows. There's a calm film clinging to Harry but he knows - though the noise would be masked but he hundreds of tortured souls - that he had to leave quickly now. He tests his bindings and that's when he notices the phoenix on his hand.

 _Ah, maybe…_ Harry thinks. He searches himself for the phoenixes energy and tries to shove it out. It all but exhausts him but he eventually has a fan in his hand that he uses to slice through the chains of his cuffs. From there he leaves through the door he had once broken down with Hermione, it needs some - _encouragement_ to open but he manages it.

Harry used his Fire to fly through the freezing rain and howling wind, exhausted and hungry he somehow made it to France, passing out in a alleyway luckily undetected and in a Muggle area not long after. He spent a good three weeks there, stealing food and clothes he knew wouldn't be missed, before scurrying cross country.

It didn't take long in Italy for someone to pick him out, but not for who he was or his magic - which was what he had originally given him a heart attack - but for what he came to know as his "Flames." Fortunately they told him what it was - what, _he_ was, before (forcibly) introducing him to the Mafia of all things.

Elementals were apparently in both worlds only to muggles, people used a different word: "Flame-user". Self-explanatory really.

Italy was a truly  _bizarre_ place but the more he got used to it, the more he liked it and the eccentric people that lived there.

Because he was a Sky (a rarity, even in the underworld. Lucky,  _lucky_ him) Harry didn't get much trouble with the locals he spent his time around, and even tentatively made some friends - and some not-friends, who helped him with his Flames and Magic alike.

A year later and he could channel portions of his magic through his Flames, enabling him to morph again (something he had learned to do in his early twenties for undercover work). Turning up the day after, to one of his usual haunts as a toddler was amusing, especially with the look of shock on peoples faces as he hinted at who he was.

However Harry just couldn't settle - especially not the way Teddy wanted him to. Not in Europe, still so close to England and its influence, so he moved. By then he had some money saved up and could do it by the books. Or as by the books as his new life style would allow. A friend of his helped him get a passport and booked a flight to Japan for him, a safe enough place apparently.

In a way Harry took his new identity - "Hirabayashi Hana" and ran with it.

It wasn't the easiest thing to do, especially with shrinking himself to a five year-old. Everyone had questions about where he was from, where his parents were. It worried him but he managed on his own, even going as far as to sign himself up for one of the local schools.

The language barrier didn't bother him, not with the weak translation spell he had, had placed on him when passing one of France's Magical populations, and his innate talent for them. A month in and he could pass for ordinary conversations and by two he was almost fluent.

Which is when he walked in on his future - or rather, part of it.

He had left from getting the papers he needed from the school he was going to join, and was scoping out the local park when he spotted a ground of brats bothering a little brunet. Instantly his magic gave a sharp  _tug._ As bound as it was, it was the first time Harry had felt his magic react to anything which alone was enough to get him moving.

It turned out to be a stupid circle of bullies that Harry quickly dealt with, without too much difficultly. But when he turned around, hand outstretched to help the brunet up, Harry froze and the kid did too. Struck by large chocolate eyes Harry knew instant love - and an instant bond, like Sirius, like Teddy.

And even without a complete education and being muggle-raised, he knew what it meant.

His magic had found someone. Or from what he could feel, that someone's _son._

Okay, so a cliche turn of phrase, but in the Wizarding World nothing could be truer. Marriage, was a big deal for a reason, as their ceremonies weren't just  _legally_ binding but magically as well: joining the two till death do they part.

Magic was a powerful thing in and of itself, able to seek out and wrap around like minded people; like the pull of gravity. For a lot of people it led to friends…followers. For authorities it was a good way of knowing who, to marry. Though Wizards had no concept on some Muggle's faith of "soulmates" if someone's magic truly  _chose_ someone, there was little difference.

And this was  _her_ son.

The one his magic had begun to pull him towards.

His first reaction was to panic, a bubble anxiety swelling in his stomach at the thought that - like everything else - his crappy luck had come into play and his - she, had already found somebody else. But the rush of Sky Flames in his system calmed him immediately because  _this was her son._ And Just like Teddy, he was beautiful.

There were many things Harry wanted to say; the likelihood of this happening, with his magic like it was, with the way his very life had been going…for something as wonderful as  _this_ to occur…but instead of scaring the boy away he tried a smile, and lightly shook his hand so the brunet would grasp onto it to be pulled up. ' _Are you alright?'_ He asked once he had the little one on his unsteady feet.

Shyly the brunet nodded, checks red but endearing and tears already drying. ' _T-thank you for your help. T-Tsu-kun's sorry fo-for the bother…'_

 _Was the bullying often?_ Harry couldn't help but wonder, it sort of sounded like it. ' _Don't apologise for that, it wasn't your fault.'_ He said firmly and got a small smile. ' _I'm Hana. Whats your name?'_

The brunet blinked for a moment before replying: ' _Tsu-kun's name is Sawada Tsunayoshi. B-but Hana can - can call Tsu-kun…Tsuna…if he wants.'_

Harry nodded gladly, happy that he wasn't making a terrible first impression. ' _Tsuna it is. I'm new here, so is this a good place to play?'_ He carried on, talking to the little one until it was getting dark and Tsuna meekly asked if Harry wanted to meet his  _Kaasan._

Harry's insides jumped and his heart strung him along all the way to the Sawada Household, where he'd meet pretty caramel eyes and light flowing hair.

He couldn't be any more smitten with the two of them if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: ohmyoweufhgwori - done! At 25000+ words this is one of the longest chapters I have ever written but I really ended to expand from the original one I posted so I wouldn't be backtracking in later chapters. I also fixed a few plot holes that I had.
> 
> I might be a little inconsistent with italics or the like in this chapter but honestly, if I try and force this any longer its not getting posted which means I won't be able to update with a proper chapter so I'm going to leave it before I get thrown into insanity.


	3. The First Dinner

It was strange - staring at Hana as he ate the meal Nana had presented him when she realised what time it was. One of his hands held onto his plate like he was unconsciously afraid it would be snatched back any second, something that was  _learnt_ and which had Nana narrowing her eyes.

The way Hana grasped his chopsticks in the other limb was odd too and gave credence to her first thought: that he wasn't Japanese - or at least not fully.

Tsuna seemed to notice too as he watching with a thoughtful expression, barely touching his own food with his interest. It lifted some of Nana's worries, seeing Tsuna feel comfortable enough to show open intrigue. 'Hana?' He asked after obviously having worked up his courage.

 _No suffix?_ Nana thought, certain that Tsuna would have assigned Hana one by now, as he was prone to do.

Hana's concentrated expression shifted from his eating, and looking up, it morphed into a kind smile. His eyes shone as they clasped onto Tsuna, so sincere that Nana wondered how such emotions could be born in such a short time.

'Yes?' Hana inquired when Tsuna didn't continue, confidence seemingly disappeared.

Tsuna swallowed and looked uncomfortable but Nana made no move to interrupt and instead chose to watch. Tsuna had so little practice with people and the interaction would undoubtedly do him some good.

'What is it?' Hana prompted with such patience as the silence stretched.

'Um…Tsu-kun doesn't want Hana to be mad at him…' Tsuna mumbled losing his nerve but Hana's countenance softened further, soothing the harsher edges of his face.

'I won't be mad.' Hana said quietly but so full of certainty that it left both Tsuna and Nana blinking. 'What did you want to say?'

Tsuna shift and seemed indecisive before he lifted his head again. 'Hana - Hana's hol-holding his chopsticks w-w-wrong.' Tsuna observed. Nana wasn't going to say anything, since Hana had been managing and hadn't wanted seem…critical.

Hana seemed more resigned than surprised as he glanced down to the implement he awkwardly held. 'So I am.' He sighed before glancing to their own hands before trying to readjust his hold but fumbling terribly. 'How am I meant to do it?'

Tsuna hesitated but after moment emptied his own hands before leaning across to Hana to manually change how the chopsticks rested in his hand. 'If they're like this…' Tsuna tried to explain as Hana listened and watched tentatively. 'Then when you do this…' Tsuna mumbled as his small fingers lifted Hana's index and back down again to demonstrate.

Hana stared as a thankful smile lightened his eyes. 'Thank you! Its more like holding a pencil than a knife or a fork huh?' Before muttering something unflattering about "stupid blonds" that Nana couldn't quite catch.

'A knife and fork?' Tsuna repeated curiously.

It seemed to be a slip as Hana winced. 'A-aa…um, yes. Remember I just recently moved to Ukiyoe?'

No wonder Nana didn't recognise him. Tsuna nodded. 'Tsu-kun remembers but he thought - thought that Hana just meant that he was new to - to Kanto…'

Unease settled on Hana's mouth as he leaned back a bit. 'Is…is that a problem?'

Tsuna blinked not fully understanding and that was enough for Nana to step in; she didn't want a misunderstanding to spoil what could be a beautiful friendship. Not when there was so few people who were willing to associate with them.

'Oh you've been aboard! How fascinating!' Nana exclaimed, settling both of them startle as she clapped her hands. 'We've never meant someone from aboard before!' She hinted and just like she thought, Hana was intelligent enough to read between the lines to what she meant.

Hana's expression cleared and he relaxed. 'O-oh…well, I…do you have any…questions?' He offered though so reluctantly that Nana wondered why he did.

'W-where is Hana from?' Tsuna asks.

Hana swallows but slowly nods, 'before…before I came here, I lived in Italy for a bit.' He paused, as if struggling with himself before quickly admitting: 'I also stayed in England, for a while.'

'So well travelled!' Nana tried to gush to lighten the mood, 'and at such a young age too! Is it for your parents' jobs?'

Any  _other_ boy and Nana wouldn't have been so direct but something in Nana didn't want to mother him like all the other adorable, little children. In fact, it was quite the opposite. There was a quiet strength in Hana and not like with Iemitsu, who had been boisterous and loud, but  _modest…_ something that told her that this was a cat with its claws retracted.

She might be completely off the mark, being "silly" like Iemitsu always told her she was but her instincts knew what she should respect, and she could't ignore the urge.

Nana did almost regret asking however as a familiar grief appeared on Hana's face, a deep sort of mourning Nana had seen on that of her father's when his brother had been killed only it was so much  _darker,_ an impossible emotion for one with such a young appearance.

'No…' Hana murmured with sadness so evident that even her little Tsu-kun frowned, obviously able to tell that he was missing something but not understanding what. 'No, they…no.' He stuttered as words seemed to fail him.

'Just nowhere…nowhere has really been home.' Hana settles finally after a moments contemplation.

Nana's mouth dried instantly and her eyes started to burned. 'Hana can have a home here.' Tsuna interjected with all the good intentions in the world however Nana's first reaction would have been to scold him, but Hana beat her to it as his arm unwrapped from around his plate to grasp hold of Tsuna's hand.

'I'd love one, its…its been a long time since I've had one.' The statement sweet as it was, rung in her ears. 'But…I think your Kaasan might not…want that.'

It was a consideration not a lot of people would make and Nana knew it wasn't to put her on the spot, though it did as Tsuna's eyes were instantly boring into hers like never before. 'Mama…?' He said, obviously wanting her to say something.

This felt important though - and even if it wasn't - something about Hana told Nana that he'd remember this so… 'You have a place in this house, if you want one.' She smiled sincerely, watching with immense sadness in her stomach as his eyes wandered, as if that was more than anyone else had offered before; as if Nana had just said she'd restring the stars for him or other impossible acts that she didn't want to contemplate.

'See Hana! Mama says - Hana?' Tsuna startles as he turns back to his new friend, to see his pretty green eyes misty and his lips parted as his gaze fixed onto Nana.

There was something sensitive about Hana. Something gentle,  _breakable_ that a part of Nana just wanted to reach out and  _fix_ \- to touch and - and  _heal._ The air changed, barely noticeable as Hana suddenly shuddered, eyes fluttering closed.

'T-Thank you…Nana-san.'

 _Nana-san._ She stopped her lips from pulling downwards. Nana didn't like the sound of the suffix after her name, it just seemed…too formal. She hadn't made her usual offer for him to call her "maman" like the other children who visited this house, because that would have been… _wrong,_ and Tsuna hadn't mentioned it either. She didn't want  _anyone_ calling her "Sawada" nowadays either.

But… _Nana-san_? Something just made it feel off however polite it was.

'Its alright, love. You're welcome here.' Nana answered honestly, apologetically glancing at the clock. Eight already? 'I'm sorry, boys but its Tsu-kun's bedtime…' she trailed, as she had enjoyed the company up until now but routines were important.

'But Mama….' Tsu-kun whined.

Nana grinned indulgently but shook her head. 'No Tsu-kun, theres school tomorrow.'

'Why don't you go and get dressed for bed, Tsuna?' Hana suggested. 'And if its alright with Nana-san we can tuck you in?' He offered while glancing at Nana to see if it was okay. It was a weird arrangement but a  _nice,_ weird arrangement.

Tsuna perked up, somewhat brightening even if he still looked disappointed. 'Stories?'

Hana stalled for a moment. 'Tsu-kun…Hana is probably quite tired himself -'

'I can - I can, if its…if its okay with you.' Hana interjected, almost shyly.

Surprised, Nana nodded. 'Alright.'

And just like Hana promised, after Tsuna came back in his pyjamas while they had been talking, they all made their way up to his bedroom while Nana wondered why she didn't think this was abnormal.

Hana had curiously glanced around as Tsuna, hand in hand, walked him to the bed - covers already turned over and waiting. Tsuna got under, happy but bashful as Hana pulled the duvet up and smoothed it down before struggling up to sit on the edge of the mattress. Nana was close, just on the other side, stroking Tsuna's hair but she could have helped if Hana had given her a second to come around.

Hana though didn't seem to notice his own difficulty and easily settled as Tsuna retook his hand. 'So a story huh? What kind would you like?'

Tsuna hummed thoughtfully as he snuggled back into his pillows. 'Um…what about a story from Hana's mama?'

Nana winced as Hana's face became just a tad fixed. She was positive that something had happen to Hana's parents. 'Tsu-kun…' She started, unsure of what to say when Hana gave a shaky smile.

'My Mama…' Hana started before he shook his head, as if chiding himself. 'How about…the last thing Mama told me?'

Nana swallowed and buried her fingers into Tsuna's unruly mop of brunet hair. 'Is it good?' Tsuna asked innocently.

'Well' Hana started, crooked grin in place even if it was strained. 'I've never forgotten it.'

'Okay then.' Tsuna smiles, squeezing his hand.

Hana took a deep breath, as if preparing himself before he launched into his tale. 'Once upon a time in a land…far, far away lived a - a family of…animals.' He began.

'Animals?' Tsuna asked in wonder.

Hana nodded. 'Deers: a stag and his mate - er, his love. And their baby. They loved each other very much and hid in a Hollow.'

'A hollow?' Tsuna repeated.

'Yes, you see a very bad wraith had been looking for their baby because the family was good and kind, and was stopping the…mean wraith from hurting pe-animals.' Nana noticed the adjustment but Tsuna didn't as he gasped.

'W-whats a w-w-wraith and why was - was it trying to hurt the animals?' Tsuna inquired worriedly.

'A wraith's…like a ghost.' Harry explained, 'and h-it was trying to hurt the animals because… he wasn't always a wraith. You see, it had once been a snake who had been bullied, very badly. He was hurt so he started to think than rather to be hurt, it was better to be the one doing the hurting.'

'B-but thats bad!' Tsuna exclaimed.

Hana nodded solemnly. 'It is bad but…sometimes when someone gets…hurt, they do funny things and the snake had never known love or how to be a friend, so he never learned to trust anyone. By the time he was an adult, the snake had changed completely. Into - into a wraith.'

'The snake would be bullied because he was different and as a wraith he hurt others for the same types of differences that he got hurt himself, because - because he got strong.' Hana said quietly, eyes intense as they stared at Tsuna. 'The deers tried to stop the wraith too as they were strong as well and knew what he was doing was wrong, but it came after them.'

'What happened - did, did the w-wraith find them?' Tsuna asked anxiously and Nana shifted, her gut telling her the answer before Hana was able to.

'Yes.' Hana breathed out. 'While the wraith had no friends or family he had followers who believed in bullying pe-animals. The deers however had three very special friends: one was a very clever wolf, another was a loyal dog and the third - the third was a rat who wasn't a friend at all. He was one of the wraith's followers and told it were the deers had been hiding; led it straight to their hollow.'

'W-Why would the rat do that?' Tsuna's voice was nervous as he blinked sleep away and tried to focus on Hana, and his story.

Hana wetted his lips. 'Because the  _rat_ was…scared.' He explained through gritted teeth, with too much emotion for a mere story. 'He was…scared, you see. He knew what the wraith was doing was bad, but he was too scared of standing out; of getting hurt himself to stand against it, so he led the wraith to their door.'

'And then?' Tsuna asked quietly.

'The wraith had to stop the deers because they were very strong and - and something you need to know, Tsuna.' Hana said lightly but urgently as he leaned forward. 'The wraith was scared of them partly because love -  _love_ will always, always be stronger, and deep down, it knew that, and it terrified it. In the deers he saw love, not just for themselves but for everyone else and their ideas, and knew it had to get rid of them.'

'Even though it was strong?' Tsuna inquired.

'Even though it was strong. Some things are more powerful then strength.' Hana confirmed. Nana felt herself staring at him. 'But then the wraith was very scared, of a lot things and took it out on a lot of animals.'

'Like the deers?'

'Yes.' Hana replied, a grim tilt to his lips. 'The dears were very special to the animals who were trying to stop the wraith and it's followers, so the wraith had to…hurt them… permanently.' He informed with a worried glance to Nana but she merely shook her head.

'Permanently?' Tsuna echoed in confusion.

'Something the deers couldn't…get better from.' Hana murmured delicately. 'So it entered the Hollow and the stag stepped forward, to protect his love and baby, giving the doe time to try and hide their baby.'

Hana stopped there, eyes flickering away to the darkest corner of there otherwise lit room; numbly staring before deeply breathing in. 'The doe was very kind and very wise and told the baby "be safe, be strong" and how much they all loved him.'

Something in Nana chilled and she held Tsuna just a little tighter. 'What happened to the baby?' Because she knew what became of the stag  _and_ to the doe despite the fact Hana had be thankfully vague.

'Well…' Hana said with an almost dark, ironic humour. 'As the baby had to quickly grow into a stag, he wasn't very safe but he did become very, very strong - too strong - to make the stag and doe proud, and later, the wolf and the dog.'

'Too…strong?' Tsuna yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Hana's expression became brittle even as he tenderly released Tsuna's hand to slide to the floor, and walking to the head of Tsuna's bed. 'A…story, for another day, Tsuna.' Hana gently pressed a kiss to Tsuna's brow, bringing the duvet all the way up to Tsuna's chin before stepping away. 'Sweet dreams,' He wished.

Seeing Hana slowly leave towards the door, Nana repeated Hana's earlier actions, smoothing her son's brow and wishing him a good night before following after Hana. But neither could leave as Tsuna's voice followed after them. 'H-Hana?'

Hana turned, Nana at his shoulder and smiled. 'Yes, Tsuna?'

'Will - at school -' Tsuna stuttered as he blinked blearily but obviously worriedly. And Nana knew all too well why. Tsuna was concerned that by tomorrow Hana would either disappear or turn out to be…not so nice, like a few had proven themselves.

'You can show me around.' Hana reassured. 'Goodnight…Tsu-kun.'

He reached up to turn the handle and slipped through with Nana following easily due to Hana's small gait. They both headed down the stairs, where Hana collected his coat which had been hung on the barrister. 'Are…you sure you don't want to stay?' Nana asked as it was already starting to get dark.

Hana looked up from where he was buttoning his jacket and shook his head. 'Thank you but I should get back…maybe next time?' He said like he wasn't sure that there would be another invitation.

'Of course.' Nana agreed easily though she couldn't help but not want him to leave. 'Is your…will your guardians be waiting for you?'

'No.' Came the instant reply. 'They haven't been for awhile now.'

That didn't fill her with worry like it should; hearing from a child's mouth that they were without an adult, just a weak sense of old sorrow. 'Do you have no one?'

It wasn't an anxiety that displayed so feely on Hana's face but he straightened, small fingers pulling at his jacket. 'Not now.'

'You were good with Tsuna.' Nana states changing the subject for him as she folded her hands in front of her, while tring not to stare down at him but couldn't help and - logically perhaps - despair at the height difference. 'Have you done that before, a baby brother maybe?' She asks though she knows she's wrong, that Hana had no family, but his actions went beyond that of a child and instead looked like the practiced motions of a parent.

'Theres just me.' Hana replied with some difficulty. 'But…you're not wrong. I've…had practice. With someone I had to leave behind.'

_Had to?_

They look to each other with Hana's knowing that she knew, and her own stare was just as heavy.

'Who are you?'

The question came out of her mouth unaided and as soon as it left her heart skipped a beat but nothing about Hana changed, not even the kind aura around him. In fact, Nana had never felt safer standing in his presence.

But Hana seemed unsure of what to say - or how to reply. 'I…I was hoping you wouldn't ask that.' He said finally, brushing a hand through his long hair in frustration.

Something in Nana's stomach tightened slightly. 'You would lie to me?' She didn't know why that thought offended her so; Hana was a stranger and owed her nothing but she couldn't help the betrayal that rose in her heart.

Instantly, Hana stepped forward with his hands held up. 'No lie.' He reassured immediately. 'I know what thats like - to have things kept from you. I - I want to tell you: I  _will_ tell you.'

Nana didn't ask  _what_ needed to be said, or why it was important. If she truly thought about it in a logical way she was being ridiculous but there was no logic in how she looked at Hana, or how he looked at her and something just told her, something just  _knew_ that everything would make sense eventually. That things would click into place once it was ready to.

'And you'll be truthful?' Because Iemitsu never had been - never was.

Hana looked her straight in the eye as he replied with: 'Nana Sawada, I swear onto you that I shall never lie to you. I swear this onto myself, my Mother of all Mothers, the Sky and onto the Earth. So be it.'

The finality cemented in the air, making them tangible and real. Nana had a feeling she didn't fully understand what had been said but…the honesty there was undeniable, and a weight disappeared from her shoulders as she nodded while a great urge to thank Hana crashed down around her.

'Is it important?' She inquires instead.

Hana inclines his head. 'Its…its a bit overwhelming but thats not why I don't want to tell you straight away.' Nana found that curious and it must have showed as he continued without another word needed from her. 'I…You are…very important to me, Nana-san. And…I don't want what I'd tell you to cloud your judgement of me. I - I want you to get to know me first.'

Trusting her instincts, Nana nodded and without thought bent to peck Hana on the cheek. Startled she pulled back to large green eyes. 'I - I'll see you tomorrow, Hana.' She said, flustered.

'T-Tomorrow?' Hana uttered, hand going back to cup where she had kissed him; like she had given him a great, indescribable gift.

Despite her embarrassment, Nana was determined. Knew what she wanted. 'Of course. After school you'll walk Tsuna home and stay for tea. Now hurry up and leave, it really is dark out there.'

Hana made an agreeing noise, dazed but didn't seem worried or scared at having to go back alone and instead stretched up to turn the key which had been left in the door. 'Thank you, Nana-san.' He murmured softly back but left by the time Nana could ask what he was thanking her for.

* * *

Harry shut the door behind him, a foreign sort of excitement bubbling inside him as his muted magic sung in his veins and his Flames buzzed happily around him, contented and sated from Nana and Tsuna's presence alone. He wouldn't allow himself to think of what it'd be like when he told them about their own Flames, and what it would mean for them. It wasn't time for that yet though Nana's reaction to him left him with hope in his heart.

He jumped off the doorstep and barely contained the skip he so wanted to dance as he began the walk back to his apartment, just remembering to keep an eye out for any Yakuza that ran rampant in the area.

Of course thats why he had originally chosen this Ukiyoe but in this form he was more likely to be hassled,  _especially_ late at night and he'd prefer not to gain any unwanted attention. Changing back wasn't an option either: he didn't have enough magic stored up yet and even if he could manage it, it was unlikely he could turn back for tomorrow.

However Harry  _never_ got what he wanted and he wasn't even half way back to his flat when a deep, but feminine voice stopped him in his tracks.

'And whats a child like you doing walking the streets at this hour?' He froze and turned to his side to see a woman in her early twenties easily sat on the top of a house's wall, obviously having no regard for the property  _or_ gravity and staring at him with a single minded intensity that Harry knew instantly that running would be absolutely pointless.

'Unless…of course, things are not what they seem.'

The first childish words that were coming from his throat were instantly squashed back down.

With her sleek, wiry muscles hidden along her slender frame and her sharp, steel eyes unafraid to stare straight  _through_ him, Harry knew that she wasn't one to mess with. A woman of proud asian descent with dark, long hair that was in a sort of ordered chaos made her undeniably fair but it only formed to make her all the more dangerous.

His silence amused her, Harry sensed it, as her crimson lips stretched into a smirk. And when she jumped from the top of a twenty foot wall, she did so with the stalking grace of a feline. Her movements sharp, deadly with a seductive swing to her hips.

Harry stopped himself from stepping back as Cloud Flames brushed against his own, harsh but with a tantalising edge that was almost threatening.

Swallowing dryly, Harry asked: 'Who are you?' While Nana's own words repeated in his head from just that evening.

'Wrong question.' The woman tsked like he were a misbehaving child as she continued on a path towards him.

Harry had never had trouble with his pride, so he tried again. 'What do you want?'

'Ah, well. I'm in a bit of a bind.' The woman replied like it was all one big nuisance while Harry had a feeling that whatever it was, was a lot more important than she wanted to let on…or perhaps even acknowledge. 'You see, these bad,  _bad_ man are hounding me. Wanting things from me that I don't want to give.'

Sometimes being a Sky was more trouble than it was worth as his Flames instantly reacted by trying to soothe even when it left him somewhat defenceless. Unfortunately - and all too late, this seemed to be what she wanted as a small hand reached out to caress his cheek.

'And just when I was all ready to go and bite them all to death, I sensed  _you_ and your delectable Sky Flames.' She murmured, every word rolling over her tongue like she was a songstress and her voice, her instrument to be played to his own disadvantage.

Harry tried to maintain his cool as the Cloud Flames surround him; trapping him. Of all the times to be too weak to do magic -

'Sky Flames?'

The woman's eyes narrowed for a moment and her touch hardened before she gentled again. 'Now, now. You've been doing so well!' She praised mockingly. 'Theres no need for acts between friends. Besides…playing dumb, doesn't suit you.'

Urgh. He'd never hear the end of this if he ever returned to Italy. He had been thoroughly warned to be careful until he had Guardians - even if it was just one that was  _around,_ and not thousands of miles away. But did he listen?

'Alright. Last question then: what are you going to do?' Harry demanded, dropping the act altogether and allowing his voice to deepen.

The woman hummed though she seemed secretly pleased. 'A rather redundant question.' She stated. Her Flames tightened around his own as they further pressed on him, seeming to know that a lone Sky could do little to fight off a Bond, even if she  _was_ forcing it. 'I think you can feel it.'

Harry bared his teeth angrily, not liking this or the situation despite how her Flames started to ease into him. 'You know, even if you manage to make them Bond, it won't Harmonise through force alone.'

A glint entered her eyes, shadows of desperation suddenly becoming all too clear. 'Its usually the other way around, but if you're the wine and dine type of guy then you're cute enough that I might consider it.'

The order for her to drop her own disguise was on the tip of Harry's tongue if he didn't know that, that would be more than she was able to give. Instead, just as her intrusive Flames fully sank into his; the feel of her essence touching his core, he asked again: 'Who are you?'

Work done and a primary Bond made, the woman lowered her hand. 'Well, since you asked  _so_ nicely.' Her voice turned playful but it was as real as the smile on her mouth. 'Hibari - Hibari Kana. Please take care of me,  _Sky-dono_.'


	4. Three Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, I had to rewrite part of the first chapter. When I started to workout the timeline I realised that by making Tsuna six in this story, in Cannon, Iemitsu would have already returned home with Nono. I added that visit in as I sort of referenced it in this chapter which is why I thought I should tell you in case anyone got confused.

Harry didn't know how he managed to get himself in these situations.

He couldn't decide if he should blame it on Potter genes (as Sirius had once hinted to) or if it was something all his own. Either way his life was taking another turn towards "ridiculous" as he led his Guardian Proffer to his apartment, under a silent agreement that she wouldn't be going anywhere else tonight.

It wasn't like Harry to be a push over when he really didn't want to do something but even after just meeting Hibari Kana, he knew that she'd do what she wanted much like her element dictated. That didn't equate trust as he kept her form in the corner of his eye through the whole journey, watching as she prowled forward like a wild cat on the hunt despite the lazy pace he had set.

Kana wasn't outrightly aggressive but there was an air about her, something dangerous that made his hair stand on end. Her eyes were hooded but guarded and sharp even as they stared resolutely ahead. Her body was relaxed but relaxed in the same way a trap was, just before it was sprung. 

Absently, Harry wondered who such a woman would run from. (He had a feeling, if she stuck around, that he was likely to find out.)

Reaching his apartment took barely fifteen minutes but by the time they were in front of the door he was noticeably out of breath. Harry felt shame raising in him as he sensed a hot stare on the back of head, at his own condition. He was far from the auror he used to be who could run on nothing but coffee and the scraps Keature forced down his throat for weeks at a time. It was far from the wizard who could down an opponent without breaking a sweat.

And then, he had to remind himself that he wasn't much of a wizard at all.

Digging his key out from his pocket, he fumbled with the metal as he tried to position its jagged shape into the keyhole. Harry couldn't get his hand to coordinate with him however as he continued with growing frustration as his limb shook, until delicate fingers slid over his with a gentleness he didn't think such a powerful, volatile Cloud could be capable of.

Still, the movement was unexpected and Harry jerked back, twisting around only to come face-to-face with dark eyes that seemed to be inspecting him. He couldn't fathom what she could be thinking as she stared at him with her neutral mouth but so concentrated on her, he was, that he didn't notice Kana turning his hand until a loud click from a blot releasing broke their stare off.

Harry blinks, once, as she leans further toward him. 'After you, Sky-dono.' She murmurs, her breath warming his mouth before she releases him and slipped back a step, movements fluid like water.

His skin tingles with residue from her Flames and he wonders, inattentively, as he places his palm over one of the panels' of his door where he had concealed some protective wards, if she had started to "wine and dine" him already. Smoothing his skin against the wood he briefly channeled some of his magic into his Flames and breathed: 'Be welcome, Hibari Kana.’

He felt the wards shift over them before they snapped back into place after accepting her. So, that  _was_  her name. Interesting.

Finished, Harry opened the door and stepped back to allow Kana to enter first. A brow was raised in silent question as she looked at his face but she took the invite without word and walked in, like this was her home away from home and she had been here a hundred times before.

She took her shoes off at the doormat and arranged them to be up against the incline of the floor, facing the door. Vaguely, he remembered Tsuna doing the same and copying him in order to be polite. Maybe it was less about mess in Japan and more of cultural thing? He'd have to bring it up.

‘Ojama-shimasu.' Kana says lightly but it is the first few words Harry has not understood since the first two weeks of his arrival.

'A-ah ha.' Harry mutters after he is silent too long and Kana glances over her shoulder at him, hair swishing out of her way as she frowns at him. Stepping in himself, he parrots her actions and takes his shoes off before clumsily aligning them with her own. He shuts the door with his heel and after hearing the lock click back into place, goes to walk past her when her voice stops her.

'You are not Japanese, are you?' Kana says like a question when they both know she's not wrong.

Harry blows out all the hot air from his lungs, not having the energy to explode when he had already given away his origins once this night. His arm comes up to rest against the hallway wall to steady himself and gazed numbly at his empty apartment filled with a few boxes of things he wouldn't miss, a hollow shell of a promise that it could be a home when it wasn’t.

'No, I'm not.' Harry replies and when she says nothing else, continues with what she wants to know: 'I was born in England.’

Kana's Flames pulse before they alight and seep around him; curl about his form in a way that is not quite loving nor comforting. In fact, he's not sure what to make of it at all but from the little of what Harry's been able to deduce of this woman he can't find it in him to reject her and tries to relax into this touch.

The moments broken with her essence drawing tightly back to her and Kana walking around him, to pass further into his apartment. ‘“Ojama-shimasu" is what we say when entering someone else's house. I believe it is pronounced in English as "sorry intruding I" but I have not spoken in your native tongue since I was forced to learn it at school.’

He believed her. Kana's accent was thick and cumbersome, so much so that he was surprised she remembered the words of a language she obviously didn't excel in. But she spoke without embarrassment nor care, obviously not thinking it was that important least not important enough to be embarrassed about.

'I see.' He replies as he watches her settling on top of a box full of tomes he had managed to collect (or what had been enthusiastically thrown at him,) in what was his living room and joint kitchen area. 'I'm sorry I didn't respond properly then.’

He says finally, understanding that etiquette and manners were important in Japan especially with such an obviously proud woman.

'I believe you welcomed me in before you had opened the door, Sky-dono.' She responds tartly, a sharp smile on her lips.

The woman was a headache of oxymorons; Kana seemed so…proper and elegant but then there was a sass in her spirit and a mocking playfulness in the way she talked that he struggled to read her. A seductive cat, wild but…not tame, as such, but at that moment he could think of no better word.

'So I did.' Harry huffs as he goes to close the curtains that lead out onto a small balcony - he'd seen his neighbours use for laundry and with show little space there is, he's not surprised - and doesn't mention how he was merely allowing her access to his house; that his wards would not have let her in otherwise. 

Having Flames did not mean someone was magical, as he had learned in Italy. There could be Muggle Elementals too - or “Flame Users” - and Harry would prefer not to cause an international incident.

The light from the streetlights and moon are cut off with the window's covering but it doesn't bother him, nor does it seem to upset Kana who doesn't moved from where she's perched on his moving boxes.

Harry flops back onto a plush beanbag thats slumped nearby when Kana abruptly asks: 'You did not like England?’

He considers this as he stares up at his dark ceiling. 'I believe,  _it_  did not like _me_.' He answers finally.

'And Japan? What brought you here?'

'An idiot.' Harry says bluntly but won't go into detail. He'll help this woman, because she obviously needs it. He'll even go as fair as to see if this fledging bond can be nurtured but he won't be stupid about it - or stupid _er_. He's lost too much and there is too much at risk for someone he doesn't know. 

He had Teddy to think about because he knew that if he was caught for some moronic slip up, they'd have no qualms about raping his mind for how Harry had escaped and he couldn’t incriminate his godson. Teddy deserves better.

'Hn.' Kana hums noncommittally. 'Are you falling asleep?’

'Yeah. I've got school tomorrow.' Harry murmurs as his breathing begins to even, deepening as he allows his eyes to flutter. Having a stranger in his house is nothing he's not used to from the Dursley's, or Order meetings. Besides that, he knows that she won't hurt him: for whatever reason, she needs a Sky, something hard to come across. 

Kana won't try anything, not yet at least.

‘Why?'

'Why?' Harry repeats, the word barely touching his lips as his mind grows foggy.

'Why are you going to school tomorrow? You are far too old for it.’

Her comment instantly wakes him up, like a dose of ice water and he tenses but doesn't move from his position inclined on his beanbag. Harry slowly opens his eyes to stare at her, sharpening his sight to see through the black. 

'Not right now.' He hisses quietly. _Right now_ he was six and he'd play along with what this body needed and all the acquired expectations it would have.

Kana's shadow doesn't move an inch, her outline is as poised as he imagines she is. 'I understand, Sky-dono. You are hiding.’

Running. _Hiding_. There wasn't any difference between the two in his eyes, so unrepentantly Harry snorts and maybe petulantly replies: 'It takes one to recognise the other.' Before turning over and curling up to sleep, though he remained awake hours later thinking thoughts which whirled inside his head like a snitch he'd chase after, until the snitch eventually files out of reach and oblivion finds him.

Kana did not say anything else that night.

* * *

Dozing off, Harry had woken up roughly three in the morning. He jolted up from a terror he tried to keep buried in the recesses of his mind, covered in sweat with his hair sticking to his forehead and his shirt moulded to his chest. Gulping at the air, it took twenty minutes too long to calm his frantic heart that was still convinced he was locked away in a tower, surrounded by darkness and depression.

He did not move from where he lay in the foetal position, feeling small and so very vulnerable. Bitterly - and with no small amount of mourning - Harry wondered if this is how Sirius felt, still so fresh out of Azkaban and on the run with a thirteen year old Godson who was so very far away. 

Despite this he managed to slip back in and out of sleep until seven in the morning when his alarm clock rang, a cry to alert him it was time to get ready. Having a nightmare used to mean losing night hours but his body was far from healthy and the fatigue dragged his mind down into rest, even when his imagination did its damnedest to keep him up.

But with the alarm meant Harry needed to move and get ready. There were things to be done today and despite what a doctor would most likely recommend for him, he couldn't afford bed rest. It didn't take him long to drag his small body to the shower, and even shorter still to wash away the perspiration from his skin though his hair set him back an extra ten minutes that it never had before his arrest.

Harry dried himself quickly and threw on more age appropriate clothes he had hung on the back of his bathroom door, not at all embarrassed by what he looked like at this point as he took another towel to wrap around his head as he went to get breakfast. 

By the time he was done and had reentered the lounge the lights were already on, though the curtains remained pulled tight. Kana was stood by the cooker in the kitchen area, a mild expression on her face as she stared down at the frying pan in her hand.

Still rubbing at his damp hair, Harry couldn't help his curiosity as he watched her move around, cooking. 'Morning.' He greeted more to alert her of his presence behind her then to actually talk. She doesn't reply with anything more then a "Hn" so Harry continues onto his beanbag, prepared to watch her for now.

His mind wandered as he waited for her to finish - to Tsuna, to Nana and then to Teddy and what he might be doing in the Wizarding World; if their people were treating him better then they treated him. He thought what his godson's reaction might have been to his predicament and then considered his own reaction and how he was going to play this.

"Hirabayashi Hana" was meant to be an escape; a way out of everything "Harry Potter" had to be but with finding Nana and Tsuna…what was he supposed to do? He couldn't stay this size as he had planned, not with Nana. He couldn't do that to her…unless, of course, things didn't work out the way they were meant to, even with the magic bond. 

If so…then it would hardly matter what age he was. (Harry wasn't an idiot. He had seen the wedding ring encircling her promise finger on her left hand, though he had wished he hadn't. Breaking up a happy marriage wasn't something he could do, no matter how desperately he wanted what the bond could give him; what she could give him.)

How he represented himself this first day was important in any case. He needed to decide who he was going as - himself? _Not_ himself? A mixture? Neither? - and quickly. After all, you couldn't make a second first impression, could you?

'Sky-dono.' Kana's voice startled him out of his thoughts. He glanced to the left to see that she had set cutlery out on a couple of cardboard boxes which had been pushed together and had two plates in her hand. Tilting his head, he watched as she put one dish on a box before she sat to one and without waiting on him picked up her chopsticks, clasped her hands and muttered: ‘Itadakimasu.'

After a few mouthfuls, Harry walked over slowly. He looked at the meal of tofu in some sort of sauce - strange thing for breakfast but as he knew, _also_ the only thing he still had in the cardboards. Shrugging, he lowered himself and hesitantly picked up his chopsticks.

'Remember to praise the food.' Kana said after swallowing.

Glancing up, Harry frowned. ‘Pardon?’

'Itadakimasu.' Kana repeated flatly. 'It means "gratefully receive I".'

'A-ah. I-Itadakimasu.' Harry stuttered in surprise and before he could get anything else wrong, repositioned the chopsticks to how Tsuna had showed him yesterday and attempted to grab some of what was on his plate.

After the first mouthful, he felt Kana's insisting eyes staring into him and after a minute or two allowing the silence to encompass them with no change, frowned and said in confusion: ‘Its…good.'

That seemed to be what she was waiting for because she settled back down to her meal. With more of a handle on his chopsticks - literally - Harry starts to casually start squeezing his hair that is still wrapped on in the towel around his neck, with his left hand, trying to get the remnants of water out so it'd be dry before he has to leave.

'You are still going to…school.' Kana said, eying his outfit over the rim of her cup that had appeared in her hand.

'Yes. I signed up yesterday.' Harry told her easily but didn't bother to explain the paint splattered jeans or the bright hoodie which he knew, from the amount of girl talk he suffered from both Ginny and, shockingly, Hermione, clashed hideously with his eyes and hair colour. 'I've already got my equipment.’

'I'm surprised the registration didn't take longer.' Kana comments at last.

Harry lifts a brow. Shouldn't she know her own school system better than him? 

'It would have, probably, if this wasn't Ukiyoe. Its a rough area so there aren't a lot of young families around these parts. That, and regulations is pretty lax.’

'I see.' Kana states. 'He'd be horrified.' She whispers low enough Harry knew he wasn't meant to hear and so, pretended that he hadn’t.

'You're not from around here either?' Harry asks and wasn't surprised when she didn't answer him.

'Why is your hair so long?' Kana inquires instead.

Taken aback, Harry freezes as he refocuses on her. ‘What?'

'You said you were from England, did you not?' Harry nods uneasily. 'Then why is your hair so long? I did not properly see it last night but it must reach your lower back. I did not think that England thought it proper for a man to have long hair.’

Harry takes a moment to breathe in before he allows his left hand to continue its drying. 'No. Its not.' Not really. A few Pureblood Lords grew out their hair as a sign of status but it wasn't too common in Muggles. Petunia and Vernon would be horrified. 'I've never intentionally grown it out.' He response as he looks back to his plate which is almost empty. 'Its…a lot of maintenance but I….’

Harry stops without realising, tongue getting stuck from one word from another. He had tried to cut it when it had caused an issue around the time he had arrived in Italy - had even found a pair of scissors, a fistful of hair held taut in one hand as the other readied his blade but then - he _couldn't_. 

All his life, his hair had been "the Potter hair," messy and completely unmanageable. It had been what had driven Petunia to shaving his head, what had clipped his eyes when he was training and what had been one of his most recognisable features as an auror.

And just like he couldn't decide how his hair naturally looked when short or the connotations people gave it, Harry also hadn't been the one to grow it out. Hadn't decided anything for years, in fact, but just like it wasn't his choice, the time he had spent in Azkaban had destroyed something that the Wizarding World had used to recognise him for, all on its own.

To have all that history back again by cutting it short again - even if it was petty, even if he couldn't do _anything_ about his green eyes (which meant the rebellion with the hair meant little) made him had decided to keep it - to get used to the weight of the difference.

‘Gochisou-sama deshita.' Kana sighs as she too, releases her chopsticks to the box underneath and gets up from where she had been sat on her knees - an uncomfortable looking position. While speaking something _else_ Harry couldn’t hope to translate.

She walks steadily to his side and takes the towel from him without much fuss before dropping it back onto his head. Harry doesn't even get to voice his surprise before she's rubbing with way too much strength, grinding the fabric into his scalp in such a way that it felt like carpet burn.

'Long hair has a lot of requirements.' Kana says as she continues to knead his head like dough. 'But there are always benefits.' She finishes, lifting the towel away from his head and dropping it to their side on the floor.

Then, with her fingers, she starts to comb the knots and tangles from his hair in swift, sure moments. Harry holds still, uncertain what would happen should he protest or move away or what it meant to Kana as her gaze pierced him. 

Finally, she seems to think she's done and stops, inquiring: 'Where is your hair tie?’

Harry doesn't answer right away and knows then that this was how their relationship would be: this give and take as they analysed each other's ticks. But the "hair tie" was from Teddy, a gift and undeniably precious. Kana waits however with her clear eyes and without word, he fishes it out from his hoodie's pocket and drops it into her awaiting palm. He only takes it off when he's washing his hair and then he still keeps the bead on him.

Kana seems to look at the silver bead “thingy" for a few moments before she's blinking and easily gathering his hair behind his head in a low, loose ponytail. (Harry knows just as much about jewellery as Teddy does but even if he did find out what the heirloom was, he'd still think of it as a "bead thingy" in fondness). 

As soon as the bead clips into place she's moving away and collecting the two empty plates from their boxes before he has time to blink.

'Er…thank you.' Harry mutters awkwardly.

Kana just nods as she takes the dishes to the sink. 'I'll take you to school.' She says as she rinses the plates and chopsticks off.

Harry isn't quite sure if he's heard right for the first few minutes but as they pass and Kana says nothing more, he jumps up. 'What? _Why_?' He demands as he closes the distance between them only to get more frustrated when she all but ignores him.

'Because the forms will have to be handed in by an adult.' Kana explains bluntly, not even bothering to turn around as she continues to wash the dishes. 'I can tell that you do not have an adult and as I am one, it makes sense that I'll be the one to take you to school.’

The traitorous part of his brain - the part that had been wondering _how_ he would explain his lack of supervision said that she was right - that it didn't matter if it was a one time deal, as it solved one of his problems here and now. The remaining part of his brain that worried on who Hibari Kana was and what her intentions were, didn't like the idea at all.

'And you're comfortable with that? You're comfortable playing _family_ with me; walking into that school and pretending - _pretend._ Knowing that I'm hiding. You're comfortable with that type of personal association?' Because he didn't know who she was or what she wanted beyond a bond but that meant little. Weak, experimental bonds were easy to explain away. Creating ties in the eyes of the public weren't, Harry knew that from experience.

(The Daily Prophet had a lot to answer for. Among other things.)

However his argument dissolved when she glanced over her shoulder, dark eyes unmoved and retorted mildly: 'As you said last night, "It takes one to know one.”'

And that was how Harry found himself being walked towards Ukiyoe Primary School, hand-in-hand with the most singleminded, infuriating Cloud User. _Ever._ Her pace would have been too much for his statue if his legs didn't have the muscles development they did, even if they had been weakened. 

Her grip was inconsiderably tight and he could feel his fingers turning numb but didn't complain as the building approached.

Kana didn't even pause in entering and went straight to the lady at the front desk, past the lockers and the children who were changing their shoes.

(And what  _was_  it with Japan and their shoes? Was this an actual thing?  _Why_  was it a thing?)

The receptionist who had been typing away on the computer looked up after a second or two of Kana's slight shadow looming over her, glancing at them over the rim of her glasses. 'Hello.' She greeted. 'How can I help you?’

'Hello, I'm here to register this - child as a student.' Kana replies politely enough, even as she bends over his short form to open his book bag and take out his form. She passes it to the receptionist who spends a moment to read it, which is understandable as this wasn't the woman Harry had first talked with the other day.

'Hirabayashi Hana, grade one?' The receptionist asks once she's done with reading over the form. Harry didn't know about the Japanese year - grade system but nodded anyway. 'And what relation do you have to Hana-kun, young lady?' Her eyes flickering between the two of them as if trying to form a connection.

'I am his Guardian.' Kana answers stoutly.

Harry smothers a snort. Well, that was an extremely liberal way to see it - in _either_ context of the word.

'A-Ah. Then he is living with you?’

Kana doesn't wait to say: 'Yes.' If Harry didn't know better himself, he would have believed her which is why he's forgiving when the receptionist nods her understanding and turns in her desk chair to stamp and file the form. She quickly goes back to her computer and after a few clicks, she's nodding. 

'Alright. Well, there's a class ready and waiting for Hana-kun. If you stay here I'll go find the teacher to collect you. Are you alright waiting, Miss-?’

'Hirabayashi. Hirabayashi Kana.' Harry looks up at her in silent question but she doesn't even glance at him as she stares steadily at the reception who smiles and nods, before she's leaving her desk.

' _Oy._ What's wrong with your own name?' Harry hisses, expression of child like innocence he had been trying to project while in front of the reception long gone.

'She didn't ask for my name. She just wanted to know what to call me.’

Harry raises an unamused eyebrow. Well, that was true. The reception hadn't asked for real identification. 'Maybe not in words but you knew what she meant.’

‘Hn.'

Why did he get the feeling that, that was going to be an answer for a few things?

The receptionist returned not long later with a man in his forties. Everything about him was rather unremarkable to his average height and build, to his dark hair and stressed but neutral features. 

'Sensei, this is the guardian: Hirabayashi Kana.' The woman introduces easily but with a certain level of tact Harry never saw in the Wizarding World. Probably assuming, correctly, that with Kana saying she was his "guardian" his parents were gone.

Kana tips her head down in greeting but her back remains straight which the man might have been offended by, if his tight lips and frown are anything to go by, but he bows lightly back without compliant.

Although Harry was getting used to the language, he really knew little about the culture but what he had managed to figure out by himself (with little time to buy books on the subject,) that respect was a big thing which included bowing (something he was not completely comfortable with) and the suffixes.

'And my new student?' The teacher asks.

'Hirabayashi Hana, Sensei.' The receptionist answers.

The teacher nods, once. Harry thinks to himself that this really is a no-nonsense type of man. Those were the _best_ to mess with, Harry had learned early on in his term as an auror. 'I am Hinata Kenji. I'm going to be your teacher.’

'Nice to meet you.' Harry response in a voice that while not high enough for a child, is not deep enough for an adult.

Maybe he could have some…fun with this? Kana had already thrown his original plan out the window and with Tsuna and Nana being someone else _completely_ , while using the only name they know him by, wouldn't allow them to get to know him.

(He was, also, the son of a Marauder, the godson to another and god _father_  to the next generation.)

Hinata-sensei blinks. 'How old are did you say he was?' He questions, turning to the receptionist whose looking at Harry as well.

With wide eyes and a big smile that cuts a white slash across his face, he hops forward with energy he doesn't have and holds up two hands with the right _-wrong_ amount of fingers. 'I'm this many!' Harry exclaims in his most immature tone he can manage. He hears Kana snort behind him.

The two educators turn to each other, missing the smirk that he can't quite push down right away before Hinata-sensei is addressing him again. 'Well…Hana-kun, its almost time for registration so say goodbye to your guardian and I'll show you the way to the classroom.'

'I'll see you tonight, Sky-dono.' Kana says pointedly as their hands untangle. Harry look downs and flexes his white fingers. _Merlin_ did that woman have a tight grip.

But Harry can take a hint. So he wasn't going to just be able to get rid of her. He hadn't expected to. 'I'll be late.' He mutters lowly as he hadn't mentioned he'd be visiting the Sawada house tonight and when she inclines her head in acceptance, continues louder: 'Bai bai, “Guardian-san."'

…Its not petty as they were just as bad as each other, right?

Either way, Kana smirks at him as if to say she knows what he's doing before she turns around and leaves without another word. 

'Have a good day, Hana-kun.' The reception says finally, in a form of a goodbye as Hinata-Sensei starts to walk away. Quickly, Harry nods and leaves to follow after his knew teacher.

'You'll be in classroom 1-C. You need to get here by half past eight but you should be early. Outdoor shoes are to be taken off by the locker you'll be assigned today and stored in there. Indoor shoes will be provided.' Hinata-sensei rattled off. ‘Understood?'

Being sort of reminded of his old drill sergeant, Harry snapped a lazily solute and replied: 'Understood, sir!’

The dirty look he got in return was completely worth it.

Stopping outside door marked above with "1-C", Hinata-sensei slides it open and the students inside immediately quieten.

Rows of young heads face forward as the class collectively stood. 'Good morning.' They said like a choir before bowing lowly as one, heads down, boys with the arms to their sides and girls with the hands clasp in their lap.

Was this a school or the military?

'Good morning.' Hinata-sensei responded as he walked to his desk. Harry trailed behind, standing just a bit further away, in front of the blackboard waiting to be told what to do. Eyes followed him, staring at him in interest. It didn't take long to spot Tsuna, nor for the two of them to share a smile. 

'This is your new classmate, Hirabayashi Hana. Please treat him kindly.’

When Hinata-sensei glanced at him, Harry promptly said: 'Nice to meet you.' Which was echoed back to him thirty times over.

Hinata-sensei sighed as he took a piece of chalk and wrote Harry's Japanese name in neat strokes. 'He's transferred in from Europe so be patient with him.' Hinata-sensei told the class. Hana could only guess that the receptionist had read that on the form, and had thought it appropriate to share. 'Hana-kun why don't you tell the class a little bit about yourself, afterwards they'll ask you some questions so you can get to know each other.’

Hana looked back at the rows of interested eyes, all silently watching him.  _Hmmm…_

'Hello! I'm Hirabayashi Hana and I'm not really from anywhere! Right now I'm six years old but I'm sure that'll change soon enough!' Harry exclaimed with all the exuberance he had, just to confuse them. Straightening up, and lowing his voice slightly, he continued: 'I dislike math because some things are impossible to calculate and history because some things shouldn't repeat. Natto's disgusting and bullies are stupid.' He eyeballed one of the kids he recognised from the circle that had been picking on Tsuna yesterday.

'I like sports as I've never heard someone say they ran too fast and folklore as there were some stuff about dragons I wish I had known sooner. People who live with their Dying Will are pretty brilliant and Tsuna and his mama are awesome!' He continued, watching as his brunet friend turned red but seemed happy enough. 'That's all I can think of to say, Sensei.’

The hush after he had finished speaking was comical so for good measure, Harry winked. Tsuna, as discombobulated as he was, still smothered a laugh behind the clasp of his hands, his eyes shining. Hinata-Sensei sighed heavily. ‘Questions?'

One lone head rose instantly which interested Harry because the kid was the only one brave enough to after what he had just spewed out, that and Hinata-sensei sighed again in response. 'Yes, Rikuo-kun?' The teacher asked.

Jumping up, wide brown eyes peered down at Harry. Everything about the ordinary - if not _cute_ \- looking boy seemed normal but there was a strange energy that was almost visible: a transparent aura that swam so close to the kid's outline; so contained, Harry almost couldn't see it at all. 'Do you like Yokai?!’

Yokai?

Harry would have homework, after all. Recognising the word but not entirely sure where from, Harry's looked to Hinata-sensei, wondering if _this_  teacher would help. 

It took a second before Hinata-sensei seemed to click on to the unasked question. 'Yokai are from Japanese legend. Like…"monster" or "demons" in English.’

This man was obviously more knowledgable in English than Kana, but that wasn't too surprising considering he was in education. ‘Ah! Capisco. Grazie.' Harry says in Italian with a slight smile to throw the man off, before answering the boy - Rikuo who watched the interaction with interest. 'Yeah! Creatures are pretty cool!’

The answering grin looked like it hurt but Harry was more then willing to copy it and ignore the responding groan from the class. It had been a long time since he cared about keeping the popular opinion to have.

'Any more questions for Hana-kun?' Hinata-sensei asked but no one else spoke. 'Okay well, since you seem to know Tsuna-kun, you can have the desk near him.’

More than happy with that arrangement, Hana nodded and walked to the desk while easily stepping over the leg that attempted to trip him with practiced ease. _Amateur._

Tsuna had the biggest smile on his face as Harry sat, he shrugged off his book bag and on looking around, hooked it onto the side of his desk. He was settling down while Hinata-sensei got on with class before his arrival.

By the time lunch rolled in, he wished he had antagonised the man more, the sadist.

Harry hadn’t been in Muggle education since he was ten and back then he had stopped paying attention, after Petunia had shredded his test (a perfect score) and accused him of cheating.The differences in curriculum was also startling, and the difficulties with _writing_ in Japanese with the easier task of speaking it didn’t help.

As soon as the bell had rung though - and after they were forced to stand bow the teacher good by - Tsuna was out of his chair like a shot, smile large but hesitant as he greeted Harry.

And even as Harry smiled back, wider and without restraint, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat angry that a child this young would ever feel fear for going up to someone they should consider a friend. It could have something to do with how muted Tsuna’s flames were, but more than that Harry thought it was the bullying. 

‘H-Hana.’ Tsuna says like he wants to something but wasn’t entirely sure what. 

Harry just continues to smile. ‘Tsuna.’ He parrots. ‘You have a nice school.’

Tsuna blinks in surprise, relaxing a bit. ‘A-ah…you think so?’

‘You don’t?’ The silence is telling but with how much ganging up Harry witnessed the other day, he’s not that surprised that Tsuna’s opinion would be negative. ‘Never mind that. We have some free time now and I believe you promised to show me around.’ 

Tsuna brightens and with only some unsureness, takes Harry’s hand, pulls him from his seat at his desk and out of the classroom. There are a lot of faces that follow them, probably curious about the new kid but they - thankfully - manage to leave without any fuss. Its a very big school but Tsuna sticks to the same floor until they reach the stairs. 

‘W-Would H-Hana like to meet T-Tsu-kun’s friend?’ Tsuna asks even though he’s still staring up the stairwell.

‘Of course.’ Harry replies immediately. ‘Any friend of Tsuna’s is a friend of mine.’

The gratitude for such a simple statement shouldn’t be there, but it is and all Harry can do is simple back as Tsuna starts to lead him up the next floor. Right away, he gathers that it is for the year above and he makes sure to keep his guard up for trouble. 

Tsuna pauses a few times, lets other students pass if they are in the way before continuing down to the room marked “2-B”. There, Tsuna knocks and patiently waits. 

When the door slides open, the student blinks at the empty space in front of him before he glances down at Tsuna’s quiet “excuse me”. Only a year older but both he _and_ Tsuna are short for their age. ‘H-hello.’ Tsuna struggles to greet, this obviously not being the friend. ‘B-but Tsu-kun was looking for Ken-kun.’

The boy stares at them in some surprise. ‘Er…surname?’

‘M-Mochida.’

The surprise doesn’t fade but the boy does turn around to call the surname. Not a few seconds later, there’s another boy coming to the door with some haste, worry in his dark eyes. 

‘Tsuna! Are you alright? No ones been bothering you again, have they?’ Mochida - Harry guesses - fires off quickly. He wonders if Tsuna were to say “yes” what would happen. Probably violence, this boy be a Gryffindor. 

‘A-ah no!’ Tsuna exclaims, hands going up in an attempt of a calming gesture, something Harry could see him learning from his mother. ‘No one’s bothered Tsu-kun.’ 

‘That so?’ Mochida doesn’t sound like he believes it which means Harry is likely correct in his assumptions about the bullying. ‘Then what brings you up here, Tsuna? You don’t like coming up to the second floor along.’

‘Tsu-kun wanted you to meet Hana.’ Tsuna says, his smile gentle as he tugs on Harry’s hand to bring him forward and more to Mochida’s attention. ‘H-Hana helped Tsu-kun t-the other d-day.’

Mochida appeared to be a boy of average height for his age (meaning he dwarfed both of them), with a somewhat lanky frame and unruly, black hair which a fringe that clipped sharp eyes. His face was very angular for someone so young but it seemed to match a somewhat abrasive personalty, so go figure.

‘Did he?’ Mochida asks as his gaze snaps to Harry. ‘Well…thanks for that.’ 

Mochida is unsure of him but Harry thinks thats fair enough and doesn’t comment no it. ‘I’m Hirabayashi Hana, nice to meet you.’

‘Mochida Kensuke.’ Mochida returns. ‘You new here?’

Hana nods. ‘My first day.’

Mochida hums just as the bell rang. ‘Okay, well, you better get yourselves downstairs before you’re late.’ He states, stepping aside to let some of his classmates in the doorway. ‘Mum says that we’ll be visiting you this weekend, Tsuna.’

Tsuna’s eyes light up happily. ’T-Tsu-kun has a new game to s-show you!’

Mochida smiles. ‘Cool.’ He replies before a more demanding gaze slides back to Harry. ‘You take care of him.’ He says before giving Tsuna a goodbye and disappearing back into the classroom.

‘C-Come on, Hana.’ Tsuna says. ‘We can’t be late. Hinata-sensei will g-get angry.’ 

* * *

Nana spent most of her trying to clean but she found her mind travelling back to green eyes. It was a relief when it finally came time to go and collect Tsuna from school, if just for the company.

Past the gate, she was ignored for the most part. Her reputation proceeded her but it wasn’t long before she was joined by Aoko. ‘Nana!’ She called, smile on her face but looking tired.

The Mochida’s had been having some trouble with the dojo. Ukiyoe was a rough neighbourhood, unsuitable for raising children as it was filled with gangs and yakuza. Which is who had been troubling the only local dojo.

‘Aoko-chan.’ Nana greets, briefly embracing the younger woman. ‘How are things.’

Aoko sighs but her expression doesn’t waver even when her eyes tighten. ‘The windows at the dojo were smashed in the other day.’  She says, her shoulders dropping and Nana would do just about anything to take the weight. ‘Hajime was almost hit by the rock.’

Nana feels something in her tighten. ‘They did it while you were in?’

Aoko nods, an old anger tightening her lips. ‘Yes, but luckily no one was hurt.’ She responds. Nana can imagine the retribution the typically loving woman would unleash if anything happened to one of her sons. ‘Anyway, enough of this talk. Have you heard from that husband of yours? With Tsuna’s first year at school -‘

‘I’ll doubt Iemitsu will be visiting for awhile yet.’ Nana states without inflection. Her bond with her husband - something she had thought of as their red sting - was frayed, and unravelling. When she remembers the woman she used to be, young and trying to educate herself in her art and almost fiercely independent, she feels let down. That woman would probably disown her. 

‘Nana…’

Aoko had been telling her to get rid of Iemitsu after the first and only time she had met the man. Disliking him instantly. Aoko had tried to be understanding of her husband when she first heard of Nana’s situation but after seeing Nana struggling to be a single mother, experiencing along with her loneliness and Tsuna’s first five years, while Iemitsu was off only God knows where. Well, lets just say Aoko had lost all restraint.

(And she wonders, with everything she’s been through, why she’s still with this man. Why she remains loyal and waiting.)

‘Tsu-kun made a new friend yesterday.’ Nana says, trying to avoid the previous topic and the feelings associated with it. ‘He’s coming over for dinner tonight.’

Aoko’s smile widens. ‘Finally! That must be such a relief! What’re they like?’

Nana thinks of long, black hair and bright, green eyes and smiles but sadness and a sense of kindness that was almost unnatural, with a maturity that was just as strange but before she can answer theres a voice calling her name.

From a sea of children, theres Tsuna. His wave is small but his grin is large and his eyes are all but sparkling as he races to them. Hana is with him, his outfit very different from the one he was wearing yesterday; almost like he was trying to be someone else as Ken-kun follows behind. 

Jumping up, Nana catches Tsuna with ease of practice though she knows it won’t be long before she won’t be able to lift him anymore. Looking at his face, she finds it almost odd to see him so happy and unbothered after school, and that just brings back further bitterness when she remembers Iemitsu.

‘Hello, Tsu-kun.’ Nana laughs. ‘How are you, Ken-kun? Good to see you again, Hana.’

‘Hey, Mama.’ Tsuna giggles, voice so cheery. 

‘Fine, Nana-chan.’ Kensuke replies idly. Aoko insisted that she and Nana were “sisters in all but love” but she had strictly told her children _not_ to call Nana “Obasan” since Nana was a “young, beautiful” woman and shouldn’t be seen as _old_. 

Hana stays silent but polite, hanging back. Or at least he probably thought he’d be able to until Aoko squeals and rushes towards him, completely ignoring all personal space as she crunches in front of him, pinching his cheeks with an almost manic expression.  

‘Oh _Kami-sama!’_ Aoko grins. ‘You - _you._ Are. _Adorable.’_

Hana’s face is hilarious and Nana smother’s her amusement in Tsuna’s hair. ‘ _Un oh.’_ Tsuna whispers, looking worried for Hana’s safety. 

‘Um…’ Hana blinks, taken aback and face flushing. ‘…thank you, miss?’

Aoko pulls at both cheeks, stretching poor Hana’s face out while he frowns in confusion at her. ‘ _So_ adorable.’ Aoko repeats in a tone that would suggest she was falling in love all over again. ‘And who are you, little man?’

‘Hirabayashi Hana.’ Hana replies, truly nonplussed as he stares up at the admittedly strange woman breaking his face. Nana would probably feel sorry for Hana - Ken-kun looks embarrassed enough at his mother’s antics - but she was too used to her friend.

‘Hana is it?’ Aoko coos. ‘Oh its _perfect,_ precious flower.’

Somehow, Hana gets redder.

Thinking it was time to step in and save him, Nana cleared her throat. ‘Aoko-chan, this is Tsuna’s friend; the one I was talking about.’ 

Aoko freezes for a second before, in the span of a second, she launches herself at Hana and envelopes him to a huge hug (much to Hana’s panic). ‘I think I love him _more._ Can I keep him?’ 

Covering her laugh for a cough, Nana gently lowers Tsuna to the floor and pries Aoko from Hana. ‘Aoko-chan, perhaps it’d be an idea to introduce yourself.’

Ruffling Hana’s hair, Aoko smiles. ‘Hey, sweetie. I’m Mochida Aoko, its _very_ nice to meet you.’

‘…Mochida Kensuke’s mother?’ Hana asks tentatively, allowing the manhandling with grace. 

‘Is that a surprise?’ 

Hana shakes his head. ‘No, you just seem too young.’

Aoko squeals again, louder and Nana startles down beside Tsuna, knowing that they’d be here for awhile longer.

* * *

‘Sorry about that, Hana.’ Nana apologises, holding one of Tsuna’s hands while Hana holds the other. It felt like a natural thing even if it would probably be more responsible of her to take both, since Hana was a child as well.

‘Its fine, I didn’t…mind it, Nana-san.’ Hana dismisses lightly but his cheeks are still pink from the abuse they suffered. ‘It was nice to meet someone so…friendly.’

Nana laughs softly at the phrasing but Tsuna just grins. ‘Aoko-chan likes cute things.’ He states.

Hana clears his throat, appearing somewhat awkward at being labelled “cute”. ‘Ah…I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.’ 

‘Did you have a good first day, Hana?’ Nana asks.

Hana looks thankful for the change of topic and nods. ‘It was a bit…hard but Tsuna was nice enough to show me around.’ He replies. ‘Hinata-sensei is…nice, or nicer than I’m used to and I liked meeting Mochida…’

‘But?’ Nana prompts.

Hana grimaces. ‘Some of our classmates are a bit…loud.’

Children were fascinated by new things and Hana would be very uncommon to them, both in personalty and how he was foreign, so Nana could see him being bothered by their attentions.

‘Our? So you and Tsu-kun are in the same class?’

Tsuna nods enthusiastically, thrilled by the prospect and Nana was too, happy that her son finally had a friend in the same year (never mind the same _class)_ as him. ‘Yeah! Hana was super funny when Hinata-sensei asked him to introduce himself!’ He exclaims. Nana nods along though she feels strangely surprised that Hana could have a sense of humour with how polite he seems. ‘A-and Hana likes yokai!’

‘Yokai?’ Nana repeats.

Hana shrugs. ‘I don’t know much about them yet but I read a lot of folklore.’ 

Another surprise but pleasant enough. ‘I think I have some books on yokai if you’d like to borrow them?’ They were really bedtime stories that she used to read to Tsuna when he was a couple of years younger but to a foreigner they’d be entertaining enough. 

‘Really?’ Hana asks right after, evidently more than a little interested. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t mind -‘

‘Oh, of course not.’ Nana waves way. ‘They’re really just collecting dust at the minute.’ 

‘Thank you, Nana-san.’ Hana smiles before the discussion carries onto the rest of the day, Tsuna happily chattering away with Hana more than happy to stand aside, and simply add his two bits in when Tsuna looked back at him. 

Reaching the house, Nana leaves the two to the own devices and goes to check on how the curry was simmering. Hana had offered to help but she had quickly pushed him into the lounge with Tsuna, who greatly enjoyed playing distraction.

A guest offering to help - well, that was very nice of him. But no, that was what she was for.

An hour and a half later and they had eaten and they were doing a repeat of last night with Hana tucking Tsuna in, and telling him another story. This time, it had been about a deer, just a little bit more grown up than before and learning that he was different and that he could go away to learn how to be strong. 

As Hana had talked about a school in the hills, sounded by dark, forbidden forests and lakes that were filled with giant squids and mermaids, his voice had become notably wistful and sad. Eyes distant and lonely. Lines that his young face should not have creasing. 

Tsuna fell asleep half way through and Hana had allowed his voice to peter out, soothing Tsuna’s hair as he slid off of the bed. Still very gentle as he fixed the bedsheets. Nana to kiss Tsuna goodnight before following Hana down the stairs. 

‘Would you like to join me in having some hot chocolate?’ Nana asks as they reached the hallway. She really had two motives for asking. The first was innocent: she liked his company - despite the age difference she guiltily kept forgetting about - and was lonely enough to like talking to someone other than the Mochida’s. The second…well, now that Tsuna was asleep, Nana had been hoping to learn more about Hana, without such a need for censorship.

Hana glances at the front door but smiles knowingly at her as he accepts, allowing himself to be moved to the kitchen. He sits at the table and watches as she gets out one of her pots to warm the milk in. ‘Thank you for coming tonight.’ She says while concentrating, if only not to bore him with silence. ‘It was nice to have you.’

‘Thank you for allowing me over. It means a lot to me.’ Hana returns.

‘Its no problem.’ Nana smiles, turning off the hob before she burns the milk. Pulling two mugs from the cabinet, as well as the drinking chocolate, she quickly pours from the pot and stirs the chocolate in.

Finished, she turns the hob off and sets the pot in the sink. ‘Here you go.’ She says as she puts the hot chocolate in front of him.

‘Thanks, the last time I had -‘ Hana abruptly cuts himself off, hands curling around the mug all but heedless to it’s heat.

Settling in a seat opposite him, Nana sets her own mug down and looks up into green, averted eyes. ‘You have a lot you can’t say.’ Nana states, no question to be found as Hana winces. His lips thin into an unhappy line and his brow furrows.

‘…Not usually.’ Hana sighs, tired and Nana sees the bags under his eyes all over again. She wonders if he sleeps well. ‘I used to get told I was an open book.’

‘Used to?’ 

He glances up, unsure and a bit uneasy. ‘Well, my life is a bit more complicated.’ 

Nana takes that at face value. Doesn’t inquire as to how his life could be complicated when he looks so young. ‘But you’ll tell me eventually.’

‘I swore I wouldn’t lie to you.’ Hana says, sincere but just as nervous and Nana wonders why this is important; why this seemed to be leading up to something. But her heart squeezes, as if in reprimand and Nana concedes to it. ‘And yes, I just…I don’t want to repeat myself - and you have every right to keep asking. I _want_ you to keep asking - I just want you to get to know me first.’

‘And how will I get to know you if there are things you are unable to say?’ Nana questions, though not be argumentative. 

Hana’s lips part for a moment. ‘Ah…’

Humour finds her. ‘You didn’t think of that?’

‘I guess not.’ Hana grins but its twisted with cynicism. Nana blinks and the expression has settled into something else, something more relaxed. ‘How about we ask each other three questions?’

‘Each other?’ 

‘I want to get to know _you,_ as well.’ Hana says earnestly and Nana suddenly feels a bit hot as contentment curls in her stomach, like a fed cat pleased after waiting a long time for a meal. ‘So…three questions.’

‘And - and we start now?’ Nana asks, sipping from her drink but finding it too hot just yet.

A smirk curls at Hana’s lip and Nana suddenly remembers her own thoughts on Hana’s sense of humour; how Tsuna said he was funny. ‘Yes.’

‘Wait!’ Nana says, eyes widening. ‘Was that a ques- never mind. Forget I said anything.’ Flustered and pulling at her own hair in frustration, she doesn’t want to appreciate Hana’s restrained chuckle the way she does.

‘I’m sorry.’ Hana smiles softly. ‘I’m just teasing. No, that didn’t count. Please start.’

Nana pouts. ‘ _Mou._ Hana is so cruel. I don’t know if I want to now.’ She states, turning her face away in a mock-huff that Hana obviously sees through.

Green eyes glow with laughter as Hana leans forward, a hand cupping his chest over his heart. ‘My apologise, fair lady.’ He says. ‘Please forgive me.’

‘I don’t know whether I want to.’ Nana asserts, watching Hana in the corner of her eye.

‘As a token of my _most_ sincere sorrow on my stupidity, how about I give you a freebie?’ 

Nana pretends to think about before loosening her arms and nodding in pretend reluctance. ‘Well…I suppose that will have to do.’ She sighs even as she swallows down a giggle. ‘You are - you are not what you seem, are you?’ 

It was a ridiculous notion but one that her heart kept telling her must be true. It did not scare her as it should, as her gut kept warning her that there was something very different about Hana though she would not be able to articulate what it was (outside the obvious,) even if it was just in fear that she would be wrong and seem foolish.

Hana rubbed the back of his neck, the playfulness receding into something more exhausted. ‘You sure jump right in.’ He states, seeming to swallow as he looks down to his drink. ‘No, I am not. Not at all. Not even a little bit.’ He agrees and Nana’s heart gives an almighty thump. ‘What you most likely think I am…I don’t doubt that you are right.’

Nana nods but doesn’t think of it. Doesn’t want to guess incorrectly. Doesn’t want to ponder impossible things just because her own instincts were leading her in that direction. When - when Hana decided to tell her, _that_ was when she would allow herself to determine who Hirabayashi Hana was.

‘Your turn.’

‘Not much for beating around the bush, so I won’t either.’ Hana mutters. ‘Where is your husband? I see your wedding ring but I haven’t seen the man.’

Nana licks her lips, something in her blood chilling as Iemitsu was once again brought up. She never enjoyed it when he did. He always left her feeling hollow and it hurt - something in her chest  - to think about him. 

‘He…Iemitsu has told me that he works aboard, so I assume that is where he is but I cannot…He doesn’t…’ Nana flounders for words; a way to explain her dead marriage and her broken family but it is hard to someone who hasn’t been around to see it, like Aoko has. 

‘But he has been home to visit you and Tsuna?’

‘Is that your second question?’ Nana asks with grim humour.

‘Is that yours?’

Snorting, Nana takes a large gulp of hot chocolate, suddenly finding the scolding the liquid gives her not as painful. ‘He left awhile after I was pregnant.’ She says, feeling that chip on her should crack further in the mention of that event. ‘I couldn’t contact him but he sent me - postcards, every so often. There was a…period of time where I thought that he was not coming home, and when I thought that, I started wondering why _I_ remained at a place Iemitsu never returned to.’ She had not admitted this before, telling Aoko would only make the woman freer in her anti-Iemitsu speak and Nana couldn’t hear it. 

‘But then, when Tsu-kun was five, Iemitsu came home.’ And Nana wished he hadn’t. ‘He brought his boss with him of all people and it was awkward and…and I don’t know.’ Yes, she does. Nana just can’t say it aloud. ‘I…I regret it. Tsu-kun has always been a bit introverted, a bit slower. He set his own pace but after they left…Tsu-kun’s been so unbalanced. Like a part of him’s missing and I hate to think its because of that visit.’

Hana is frowning, deeply, looking so concerned as he absently bites into his lip. He doesn’t say anymore and Nana thinks it has something to do with him worrying about crossing any lines, and how it was now her turn. 

Nana takes a breath and tries to shrug off the other subject, the way she always has to. ‘The other day - who was the person you had to leave behind?’

It doesn’t take a heartbeat. Hana’s full face freezes and all of a sudden, he looks very brittle again. Like ice, breakable. Nana regrets asking. ‘Without context, it’ll be a bit out there.’ Hana warns her, and even his voice sounds off. ‘I don’t have a lot of people who care for me.’ He tells her, like he’s wording what he’s saying very specifically. 

 _How sad._ Nana thinks. Catching how Hana how phrased it: “care about _me”._

‘But the person I was referencing back than; the boy I took care of, was my godson.’ Hana tells her, a smile that was just as heartwarming as it seemed devastated. ‘I…when his parents first gave him to me to hold, I thought I was going to _break_ him. I had already done so much damage and…they - they _trusted_ me with something so - so precious and - and I never felt so much responsibility as when they asked me if I would be his godfather.’

The onslaught of hushed words were unexpected but Nana sensed that Hana needed to get some things off his chest, the fact that he had a godson notwithstanding. He slumped forward, over his full mug. A single arm propped him up as a hand fisted his hair and all Nana could think was how she wanted to ease the tension. All she wanted, in that moment, was to smooth out his self-depreciating smile. 

‘At the time I was setting out to destroy something and here they were, asking me something like _that._ Merlin knows why I - why I ever agreed. But I loved him.’ And Nana knew that, would never doubt it. She can hear how Hana feels about him, so tangible it is as he speaks, she can almost _taste_ it. ‘I’ve loved him since I first held him. And yet I’ve been so _useless_ at looking after him. I couldn’t even stay for him. I wish I could have stayed.’

Nana’s throat felt numb and her mouth was dry. ‘Why couldn’t he come with you?’

Hana shakes his head, face shifting from distressed to absolute. ‘That wasn’t an option.’ He responds and his voice breaks but its serious. ‘Maybe later on…but not now, not with - with everything thats going on.’

Nana wants to ask more but they had agreed to three and, like Hana most likely, she doesn’t want pry nor push too soon. ‘Your turn.’

Hana coughs, probably to clear his throat and takes a mouthful from his mug. ‘I know you’re a single mother right now, and without being pigheaded about it, was there anything you wanted to do before Tsuna came along?’

 _You mean before Iemitsu_ “came along”, Nana wants to correct but the words never make it past her lips. Even without her pregnancy, she doubts that her husband would have been very supportive. ‘I was looking intoning into the music industry.’ She informs without inflection though she misses what she used to do, the best way for to deal with that right now was to detach herself.

‘Really?’ Hana smiles. ‘Did you sing, by any chance?’

‘How did -?’

‘You have a beautiful voice.’ 

Nana feels the heat of her blush, pleased with the compliment even if the shadow of upset is there. Because Tsuna had been poorly timed and although she would _never -_ not for _anything_ in world - give him up, she wished she had gotten the chance to do more before she had, had a child.

‘Why do you make me feel the way I do?’ Nana asks, her third question.

‘…how do I make you feel?’ 

Nana shakes her head. ‘Its not your turn yet.’ She tells him but she’s not sure if she’d answer him anyway. She doesn’t know if she could because she’s not sure if she’d be able to explain. 

‘I…’ Hana starts, then stops and straightens himself until his back is so linear he looks broken. ‘Thats something more complicated that I didn’t want to cover tonight.’ He sighs but before she can reluctantly accept this, he continues. ‘I’ll - no I said to do this, and you asked so I’ll tell you but…but promise me something first? Please don’t…know that I don’t mean you or Tsuna any harm, okay? So, please don’t panic.’

Her heart warms and Nana nods. Her gut telling her that this was the truth. ‘I promise not to panic.’

Hana takes a breath, it is deep, as if he is steading himself and without speaking, stretches out a hand - palm up - towards her. Nana watches but doesn’t reach out. Knows not to. Not a moment later, theres a flicker; a spark and Hana’s hand lights on fire.

Nana’s first instinct of rushing to the taps for water is soothed away by a sense of calm that roots a peace in Nana she can’t remember ever _no_ t having. And so, she stares at the dance of sunset embers. It is beautiful, almost hypnotising and the more she stares, the more Nana wants to reach out and _touch._ It is not something she wants - strangely - but something that she wants him to _share._

Something that Nana does not have nor want but…needs to be _a part of._

‘This is a Sky Flame.’ His voice makes her jump and her eyes tear away from the fire. ‘Everyone has Flames though not everyone is a Active type.’ 

‘I-I see…’ Nana stutters, wonders why she is not demanding things from him. Wonders why this does not scare her. ‘And what does this have to do -?’

‘With your question?’ Hana finishes for her. ‘I’m getting to that.’ He replies as the fire vanishes. Nana instantly misses it but she knows that if it were to remain she’d only be listening with half an ear, so its just as well. 

‘There are different types of Flames: the Sky and it’s Elements. My godson is a Storm - _my_ Storm, as I’m a Sky. We Harmonised. Meaning we have an “Established” bond. Simplifying that even further, I am his and he his mine.’ Hana explains. ‘Every Sky will have Elements. In terms of Elements there is: the Sun, Rain, Cloud, Mist, Lightning, and again, the Storm. There are three types of bonds. The first is “Passive” This can be made just by being in each other’s presence for a while. Like when a person is an acquaintance with someone but you weren’t friends. It just sort of happens but it doesn’t really mean anything.’

‘And the other two?’

‘The next level is “Primary”. For example, I was forced into a Primary bond the other night -‘

‘What?!’ Nana felt something in her flare in panic but Hana barely blinked.

‘- Its quite simple, one set of Flames enter the other person’s core - where the Flames come from; like a person’s essence - and they settle there. Like carrying a bit of someone else. It happens naturally too, so don’t worry, you’d notice if anyone _forced_ you into a Primary Bond -‘

‘I’m not worried about _me_ -‘

‘Naturally, Flames will become interested in one another and interact and thats how you’ll build up a Primary bond.Its thought of as the “considering” stage, where a Sky and the Element will consider each other, or convince each other, I guess.’  Hana says, completely ignoring Nana’s concern. ‘Harmonising is when the bond is fully “established” and then the element is considered a Guardian. When it came to me and - my godson, we didn’t even know about our Flames, that we were Active _or_ that we had built up an Established bond. Because we love each other and that’s the easiest way to harmonise with someone.’

‘I’m sorry, where are you going with this?’

‘You’re a Sun.’ Hana says. ‘Not completely Active but your Flames are strong and very much awake. I could sense them as soon as I entered the house; the place is saturated with Flames. And thats part of the reason you feel connected to me, because your Flames recognise my own.’ 

Nana blinks. ‘I - I see. So…we’d be Passive?’

Hana looks a bit uncomfortable and Nana wonders if theres etiquette for this type of thing. ‘…at the minute, I suppose we would be.’ He agrees. ‘But…theres a high chance that if we keep meeting that the bond will move onto Primary.’

‘And…that bothers you?’ 

Hana shakes his head, unsettled. ‘No! No of course not. I…I would be honoured. But…you already have a Sky.’

Instantly, Nana sees Iemitsu in her mind and she tenses - noticeably, with Hana’s dimming gaze watching her - and can’t think of anything other than his damnable grin as he swans in and out of her, and Tsuna’s life. Her stomach clenches in anxiety and her skin tingles with horror as she thinks back to her pregnancy Iemitsu forcing heat into her.

Terror had wormed its way under her skin after that and remembering how Iemitsu had just - _turned her off._ Had taken her strength, that day…it alarmed her as it intimidated her in a way not many things did. 

She had brought up by a spirited family with a father who was more soul than man, and a mother who was a tenacious force all on her own. Nana was used to being secure in herself; secure because she had been taught the ways of the Takamura. And than Iemitsu came along and she had never felt so weak.

Hana’s eyes sharpen. ‘What did you just think about?’

‘W-what?’

‘Nana-san, your Flames just _shuddered.’_ Hana’s shadow seemed to stretch then, grow larger and so did his presence. ‘I’m not…I’ve only just learned of Flames myself, too. I can’t say what it means to be a Sky because the minute I found out what I was, I had to leave but…Is this about you being a Guardian or something else?’

 _Guardian._ The title was ironic. Her father would approve. He could just see his face, ageing smirk that said he had seen it all, and his voice telling her: _‘Well, child, you can’t escape your blood.’_ And laugh that broken laugh that had never been the same, ever since he lost his brother. 

No, that was no problem. A Guardian didn’t…Her heart accepted it, was almost contented with the thought but… ‘I…’

‘My final question.’ Hana says looking all sorts of worried. ‘Why do your Flames feel so…scared? Its almost like-’ suddenly, Hana looks sick. Physically ill. ‘That - that -‘ Hana’s hands slam onto the table, face flushing a bright red that is a mockery of how it looked from his earlier embarrassment. All fury and emerald jewels glittering murderously and Nana goes very, very still as words spill from half-bitten lips.

Nana doesn’t understand half of what he says and Hana switches between English and - what was that, Spanish? Ranting and spitting out curses like someone three times his age. But none of his outrage was directed towards her and even as his finger started to spark, he didn’t lash out at her.

Idly, she wonders why this display does don’t frighten her. ‘Hana?’ She asks, gently, keeping her voice low.

His glowing eyes snap to her and abruptly he swallows, licking his lips with a prickly energy surrounding him. ‘I…Nana. Your husband - Iemitsu, has he ever…the term is Scorched, has he ever Scorched you?’

‘What?’ Nana asks in bewilderment.

Hana pulls at his hair, not seeming to realise that he was freeing longer strands from the back and making a mess of himself. ‘The bond between a Sky and their Guardians is…is very important. But you’ll get some who will abuse it. Nana-san, has it ever seemed like Iemitsu was…manipulating? That theres this…heat and -‘

Nana understands what Hana was getting at as soon as he said “heat” and then she doesn’t feel all that well either.  ‘Scorching is…bad?’

‘Scorching is - its the ultimate betrayal of the bonded.’ Hana so round up, its like he’s an elastic band close to snapping. ‘Flames…Their referred to as “Dying Will Flames” because thats how people will use them; with their will, usually after a traumatic experience. Bonding with someone is a show of trust because…well, one will can bend to another.’

‘Scorching is when someone forces their Flames - their _Will_ onto someone else. Sometimes its forcing an element to bond with you. Sometimes its making them do things, feel things. Sometimes its _binding_ someone and thats -‘

Hana goes almost _translucent._ A small fist clenches his chest like theres a deep seated hurt there.  ‘Its _disgusting.’_ He whispers with absolute loathing of someone who’s talking from experience, who's been used before.

That strange heat Iemitsu had. All those small incidents Nana compromised on things; the way she allowed him to lead her around, they all made sense now. All of it. All those things about him - _herself_ and they way she acted around him, that didn’t make sense, now did. 

‘I -‘ Nana feels tears building, hot and heavy and her chest is aching in a way it never has before. She’s not sure if its her feelings or her - her _Flames_ but which ever, its unstable and she doesn’t want to cry like she knows she will soon. Not in front of Hana. ‘I feel scared because…Iemitsu…’

‘He’s scorched you.’

Wordlessly, Nana nods. 

Paranoia is not something Nana has suffered but now she knows, she has to look back at all her time spent with Iemitsu; her first meeting with him, at the bar and how she gave him her number when she ordinarily wouldn’t have. How was allowed herself to be pulled along with what he wanted, manoeuvred into things until she had no say anymore. The wedding that was rushed and without her input, with her _family_ or _friends_. Had rewarded him with a “I do”. How she had let him uproot her from her hometown, to Ukiyoe despite Nana knowing that the place would be unsuitable for Tsuna, but how she had stayed anyway.

Iemitsu wasn’t a bad man, something in her told her insistently. He wasn’t evil. 

 _Manipulative,_ was the word Hana had used. 

Nana looks down to the golden band encircling her finger and feels the overwhelming urge to take it off. To throw it as far as she can.

‘Is there anyway that Iemitsu didn’t realise I was a - a Sun?’ Nana asks, wanting desperately to wake up and for this to be a dream. Something more snide in her whispers that Iemitsu would still have left her, would still have left her to be a single mother and an unknown neighbourhood with no support and with barely a passing thought.

Hana’s face is pained and Nana doesn’t need him to reply for her to realise that the answer isn’t favourable. ‘If he’s Active, Nana-san, then theres no way he can’t tell what you are. I’m what would be considered an infant Sky and even then I can…I can feel you so clearly.’

Nana’s just about to nod - disheartened and tired - when she stops mid-motion. ‘Tsuna - what about Tsuna?'

Hana stops too and then flinches like she’s just slapped him. ‘Tsuna…Tsuna’s a Sky, like me but…I can barely feel him at all.’

What did that mean. Was that good? Bad? ‘That - you mentioned that not everyone’s Active -‘

‘No, this is different. Even people who _aren’t_ Active, you can still feel their core.’ Hana explains, rubbing his chest. ‘But with Tsuna…he’s muted. And - like _you’ve_ said, Nana-san, he’s unbalanced. I - I can contact one of my friends who held me with my own Flames -‘

‘Yes.’ Nana interrupts, leaning forward. ‘Please.’ 

Hana nods, but is noticeably troubled. ‘Iemitsu -‘

‘I still have one more question.’ Nana says over him, not wanting to think about her husband any longer. ‘You said I could have an extra one.’

Hana’s lip pauses but he inclines his head. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Do all Sky’s Scorch their Guardians?’ 

Eyes wide, full of denial, Hana shakes his head firmly. ‘Sometimes its an Elemental. Its not -  _meant_ to be like that -‘

Nana’s not sure where the rage comes from, but a bubble of anger she can’t control bursts in her chest and against her better instinct, lashes out at the person closet her. ‘And I’m just supposed to take your word for it, am I?’

Denial changes to _hurt,_ a shine glazing green that doubles whatever is clenching at Nana’s chest. ‘I…no, I guess not.’ Hana whispers, tense and suddenly much more uncertain. 

Nana’s apology is buried under her indignation. ‘You just keep talking, don’t you?’ 

‘Words are all I have to offer you.’ Hana responds earnestly but with a voice so thick, Nana could probably cut into it. ‘I…I should go.’ He says, stuttering to stand and on autopilot, Nana follows him as he rushes stiffly from the room and out into the hallway. 

Her tongue is tied and her heart is heavy as Hana puts on his shoes, hand wavering over the handle as he turns back to her. Theres a collapsed smile on his face, his gaze looking somewhere past her left ear. ‘I - this has probably been all a bit much for you today. I’m sorry if I’ve…upset you.’

 _Like_ I’ve _upset_ you _._

‘I’ll contact my friend.’ Hana says at least before opening the door and quickly - _quietly -_ leaving.

Nana doesn’t stand there for five minutes before sinking to her knees, trembling and taking small gasps as she struggles to breathe. _Oh,_ she cries. _Oh, Kami-sama._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I'm working on the wizarding world side of things but I think I'm going to write it as a separate story so its not so fragmented but I'm not sure, thoughts?


	5. Decisions

As soon as Harry left the Sawada House he shuddered a breath; tried to calm the beating of his heart as he stepped out into the cold of the evening air. His mind numbly turned back to the events that had just happened and regret hits him like a Cutting Curse to the face. He didn’t even _need_ to tell Nana his identity to so royally screw this up.

‘You look distressed.’ A voice stated, bringing him violently out of his thoughts. His Flames flickered to life as his gaze snapped to the sound as his fists raise. Standing in the darkness was Kana, looking much like she did yesterday, not far from where they first met.

 _‘Bloody Merlin.’_ Harry swore in English as he recognised her, much to her amusement and he sort of hated her. ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this.’

‘Of course, Sky-dono.’ Kana snorts as she allows herself to drop from the wall she had been waiting on top of.

Harry sighs. ‘Why are you here?’ He asks because she’s not one for small talk and he’s tired.

Kana tilts her head like a curious cat. ‘…I felt that you were in need.’ She says like that was all there was to it.

Harry swallows. ‘Trying hard to worm your way into my good graces, huh?’ It might have been a bit petty to point that out again but what could he say? He was in a bit of a _petty_ mood.

Something about Kana flickered and Harry wished she was easier to read as she wordlessly fell into step by his left shoulder as he pressed forward, determined to put some space between him and the Sun Flames that had saturated over that otherwise innocuous house. ‘…It’s my duty.’

There were a million bitter things that sprung to mind, eager to respond in a way that Harry knew would do no good for either of them. So he sighs, ‘you know the area, correct?’ He asks instead, offering a peace from the downward spiral this conversation would otherwise go towards. Kana blinks at him and he knows that's a cue for some sort of explanation. ‘I need a phone box.’

‘…a phone box?’ Kana repeats with heavy confusion, or at least, as much as a deadpanned face like her’s could muster.

‘Or just a phone, I’m really not picky but I need to get into contact with someone and a letter would take too long.’ Harry exhales, however much tonight had…hurt, Tsuna still very much needed his Flames. Though Harry didn’t like to think about it, Tsuna…there was something very wrong with him - something that Harry hadn’t immediately noticed in all the surprise. It needed to be fixed and - he really _did_ want to help Nana, regardless of what she thought about him.

Kana hums. ‘I can do that.’ She replies simply as she reaches down into her jacket pocket and pulls out a mobile smartphone. She offers it without pause as he blinks at her. ‘It's a burner phone.’ she says as he starts to reach for it.

 _Burner?_ Harry thinks as his eyes narrow.

He feels the weight of it in his hand and looks at the screen. Glancing up, Kana’s face is uncaring as she watches him. ‘I’ll be calling internationally.’ Harry feels the need to warn but she shrugs without a moment to say that that could be a problem.

‘Curious, Sky-dono.’ Kana responds as she leans back on the wall behind but doesn’t ask the questions he had been expecting. The Cloud User simply distances herself enough to watch; to observe him.

Really, Harry doesn’t know her motives and he can’t bring himself to be concerned about it; there were more pressing issues. Silently, he turns the phone and after a bit of fiddling is able to get to the number pad. It takes a minute to remember the number but when it comes to him, it's like a floodgate’s been opened and he quickly presses it in and hits the dial button.

It doesn’t take a minute before there's a click on the line and a tired voice is speaking. _‘Pronto.’_

Harry slumps a little in relief that, one: he had remembered the number and two: it had been answered so quickly.

‘Makoto.’ He sighs as he rubs his forehead while trying to ignore how the Limiter on his arm glints in the above light street. ‘Sei Libero di parlare?'

* * *

The shrill of his phone was enough to wake him from his exhausted sleep. He jolts with a tired drunkenness as he raises from where he’s slumped over his desk, a crumpled document stuck to his cheek from wet ink. The tune of an English song he barely understood continued to play as he fumbled for it; not a practically professional ringtone but a friend had set it while in Italy, and he couldn’t bring himself to change it.

He squints at the screen from how bright the damn thing is in the dim of his office. He doesn’t recognise the number, he knows immediately as he mouths it to himself. There are a few reasons for that; it could be a new client, something more sinister, a contact or…wrong number, which was always frankly disconcerting.

Either way, he answers. ‘Ready to speak.’

 _‘Makoto.’_ A very familiar voice speaks and Makoto is instantly awake and straightening himself. His back complains and he knows that he needs to start taking more care as he rotates his shoulders. _‘Are you free to talk?’_

‘Little one!’ He exclaims happily as he pictures bright green eyes and wildly dark hair. Besides only his wife, Harry was one of the most unusual people he had found: a lost little Sky with a world full of problems and despite being so suspicious, still so open. ‘It is good to hear from you.’

After saying goodbye to Harry, Makoto had thought that he wouldn’t hear from the man again. It had saddened him but he understood even with how little Harry said, that his friend couldn’t stay - that he had to leave.

 _‘Of course, I’ve still got to get you for this blasted name you chose for me.’_ Harry snorts with some annoyance. Makoto laughs, because yes, he knew that the alias was primarily a female name but it had been _funny._ Besides that, he was of the opinion that it suited Harry. _‘Unfortunately…I_ am _calling with an agenda.’_ He admits guilty.

Makoto hums. He understood Harry well enough by now, he was a proud man who disliked asking for things even if he was on the street with nothing but the clothes on his back, and the cuffs on his wrists. ‘What do you need from me, potato?’

There's a pause, long enough for Makoto’s senses to sharpen in worry. _‘I’ve - found two victims of Scorching. One Sun, the mother and a child whose..well, I can’t feel him properly. There’s something wrong with him, like he’s sick, but I don’t -’_

‘How old? How old is the child?’ Makoto asks with his stomach churning. Harry had been sensitive, despite only just having come into his Flames. He had good intuition, _great,_ in fact and for Harry not to be able feel the Flames of another -

 _‘Six, maybe. He's quite small.’_ Harry replies and Makoto can all but taste the uneasiness from those words.

Makoto swallows uneasily. Harry didn’t truly know much about what he was; didn’t fully comprehend the way Flames were and what he did, he had learnt from Makoto. Harry didn’t need to ask for Makoto to get what he wanted. ‘Where about's in Japan did you go?’

 _‘Ukiyoe.’_ Harry answers straight away. _‘I can meet you at the airport but I can’t offer you a place to stay. My apartment isn’t big enough for you and the kids.’_

Makoto holds his phone to his ear with his shoulder and is opening his laptop to book a flight. ‘Of course, don’t worry about it.’ Makoto responds, Harry doesn’t need the guilt and he wasn’t even asking a favour for himself. ‘Besides…things are a bit heated here.’ He admits. ‘Getting away for awhile might be…for the best.’

 _‘…is everything alright?’_ Harry asks in concern.

Makoto’s lips pull down. Though no one in the mafia would contest that Harry was one of them with his Sky Flames, Makoto was always hesitant to mention it to a man like Harry. ‘Just some difficulties with another Famiglia. We’re being investigated…’

He wonders, sometimes in the dead of the night how the Simon and Vongola had lost its brotherhood despite the promises that had been made. He wished to feel bitter; of Daemon, to the man who had gotten his way in the end. If Giotto could see the state of his descendants…well, the Primo would _weep._

Simon would never betray Vongola. Makoto wouldn’t _allow_ it. Whoever had shot those Vongolian allied families, well, it certainly hadn’t been on _his_ orders.

Vongola Nono had all but forgotten their past relationship with the Simon. It was meant to be a secret from outsiders, not from _themselves._ CEDEF just furthered the insult with their investigation but it was also serious with how difficult the years had been on the Simon, whereas Vongola had flourished and had left them behind. Simon was far too small to properly defend itself from them, however strong their members were.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Makoto insists to the worried silence over the line. ‘Things just need time to cool down.’ Though time had never seemed to do the Simon and Vongola any favours in regards to each other.

 _‘How are Enma and Mami?’_ Harry asks with a soft muffled sigh, probably understanding that that was as much as he was going to get out of Makoto.

‘Missing their little uncle.’ Makoto teases. It had been the shock of his life when Harry had just changed his size like he had, and Makoto didn’t think he’d ever stop poking fun at his friend for the small heart attack he had, had that day. ‘They’re fine. Mami’s just started big school with her brother, and she seems to be enjoying it…’

He had two beautiful children and he loved them dearly but balancing them and work was difficult with the death of his wife. His Famiglia helped when he couldn’t be around, but he was in a constant state of worry that it simply wasn’t enough. Besides, they needed a mother; a female influence to soften his weaknesses.

‘Going on a holiday should be a good for them, though.’ Makoto hopes, Enma had been sullen and Mami was far too quiet so perhaps a new area…new _people,_ would do them some good. ‘The mother, she wouldn’t mind the two little ones tagging along…?’

 _‘No, Nana-san is very hospitable.’_ Harry replied with an odd tone Makoto wouldn’t quite work out. _‘Sorry, Makoto but this is a borrowed phone so…’_

Makoto blinks. ‘Ah. Alright.’ He responds. ‘Will I be able to text this number the flight details?’

There are some muffled voices and Makoto realises that Harry wasn’t alone when he called which is…odd, especially with the amount of time he had been in Japan. Not impossible, he supposes but _odd_ all the same. _‘Yes, it should be fine… I’ll see you soon?’_

‘As soon as I can get a flight.’ Makoto confirms for reassurance.

 _‘Alright.’_ Harry responds. _‘Thank you, Makoto.’_

‘Bye bye, beautiful.’ Makoto sings much to Harry’s frustration as he hangs up not a second later. He laughs lightly before focusing back onto the laptop in front of him. Really, Harry was _much_ too easy to tease.

Once he had booked the flight and a hotel that was close to the area, he double checked the time as early in the morning. Much too soon to wake the children, but it would be a nice surprise around breakfast. Hopefully, it was one they would like and not one they would have to warm up to. Seeing Harry again would probably sweeten the deal. Now, he just needed to sort it with his Famiglia.

* * *

Merlin, did that man _ever_ stop with the endearments? Makoto was a terrible flirt. Harry handed the phone back in disgruntlement to Kana who pocketed it. ‘Someone is coming to Japan, Sky-dono?’

Harry nods. ‘I met him in my time in Italy.’ He responds as he gestures for her to walk with him. It was late and he didn’t want to stay out in the dark for long. Time to get back to the apartment. ‘He’s helped me quite a bit and now he’s going to help me with something else.’

‘…a Guardian, Sky-dono?’ Kana inquires lightly from just a bit behind him, it was really enough to make Harry just a tad jumpy.

‘No.’ Harry denies.

‘But you do have an existing Bond.’ Kana states. ‘I feel it: a Storm that has had you for quite some time.’

 _Teddy._ Teddy who had asked only one thing of him which was to leave and survive and be _happy._ Love was a difficult thing to feel sometimes, when darker emotions were so much stronger but love was also a hardy thing to lose. Harry didn’t think there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for that boy, not a _damned_ thing.

‘Probably since the minute he looked into my eyes.’ Harry agrees, knowing that his connection had been an instant, wonderful thing.

Kana doesn’t respond immediately but when she does, it seems…small. ‘That is a very long time.’

‘Perhaps it was, for him.’ For Teddy, it probably seemed like Harry had always been there and Merlin knows how hard he tried but for Harry, Teddy was all too new and young. Maybe that was made him all the more precious.

‘…you are strange.’ Kana states and coming from her that probably says a lot about him, but Harry doesn’t care too much and leads them back to his apartment. At the door, he tries not to struggle as much with his key as he did the first time with grubbling for it inside his pocket. He manages to open the door and waits for Kana to enter before he does himself.

He’s just turning the light on to this hollow living space when he thinks, well, _why not show her how strange I really am?_ It would be a risky, stupid sort of test but Harry needed to go there anyway and it would be a good excuse to avoid Nana at the collection after school.

‘Are you busy tomorrow?’ Harry feels the need to ask first, though he knows the answer before she gives it. Kana shakes her head after straightening with her shoes in hand.

‘No, Sky-dono.’ She replies.

‘There's somewhere I need to go tomorrow.’ Harry states. ‘After school, if you like, you can be my Guardian again and pick me up and we can go together.’

Kana raises an eyebrow as they leave the doma with their shoes pushed to the raised part of the floor behind them, heading further inside. ‘I was under the impression that Sky-dono would prefer not to be in my company.’

Harry collapses into his beanbag with all the grace of an elephant. ‘I also agreed to give you a chance but I can’t do that unless things are…made clearer.’

Kana’s lips tighten. ‘I see…’ She says. ‘I am free tomorrow and will accompany you.’

‘Great.’ Harry responds. ‘Now, do you have any traditional clothing?’ He asks, seemingly the apropos of nothing.

‘Yes.’ Kana responds even as the  _Why?_ rings between them.

‘Good, then we’ll match.’ Harry grins just to infuriate her as he shifts to go to bed.

The next day Kana takes him to school wearing a bright yukata. Kana herself is also in a dark, plain kimono with a purple obi that had appeared on her back when he had woken up, to find her making breakfast again. Where she had gotten it from when he knew she didn’t have any belongings in his apartment, he wasn’t sure, but passed if off as another one of her quirks and left it at that.

They were getting a few strange looks but Harry cared little and said goodbye to Kana once they were at the gate. ‘I shall meet you here at the bell, Sky-dono.’ She had stated as she turned and walked away only to jump onto the wall and then a nearby roof. He watched her leave before he continued into school, not wanting to wait around too long in case he ran into Nana.

Tsuna was unavoidable but Harry wouldn’t want to disappoint the boy by not turning up, never mind damaging his cover. Tsuna arrived at class and greeted him none the wiser, he did feel a twinge of unease when the time vanished on him and school was ending. He walked out to the pickup with Tsuna having taken his hand and tried not to let his smile falter, when he spotted Nana and Aoko standing in wait amongst the other parents.

Glancing at Harry, Tsuna took off towards his mother. ‘Mama!’ He exclaimed as she picked him up from his running jump.

‘Hello, Tsu-kun.’ Nana greeted with a kiss, before looking down to Harry. ‘Hana…’

It feels like there is a chasm between them of things spoken and things he was unable to. He shifts slightly, nods to her. ‘Nana-san.’ He responds without much inflexion. ‘I contacted my friend. He’s on his way. You aren’t busy this week, are you?’

Nana swallows and the atmosphere is distinctly awkward, so much so that Aoko is looking between them in confusion. ‘No, we aren’t.’ She nods before taking a step forward. ‘Hana, last night - do you mind if we talked -?’

‘Sky-dono.’ Kana interrupts, just in time, with her face just as impassive as it normally is even as she offers him a hand.

He takes it but turns in time to shake his head before Kana takes him away. ‘No, not tonight. Sorry, Nana-san.’ He replies. ‘I’ve got somewhere I need to be.’

‘Oh…’ Nana frowns, eyes bright in panic. ‘But tomorrow -?’

‘…if you like.’ Harry allows before turning away and leaving the two behind him after waving goodbye to Tsuna and Aoko.

‘You know the way, Sky-dono?’ Kana asks eventually once they are out of sight.

Harry tilts his head. ‘Sort of.’ He responds. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t get us lost.’

‘I have no worries.’ Kana states in an impressive deadpan but doesn’t otherwise complain, so Harry supposes he’s safe.

* * *

Nana and Aoko had taken their boys to the park though she knew it was just an excuse for her friend to interrogate her without their children having to witness it. ‘Nana -’ she says instantly once they are sat on a bench while Ken-kun was walking with Tsu-kun to the swings.

‘I know.’ Nana sighs, last night had not been a good one for her and she hadn’t slept much as a result. Restless, she had pulled out photo albums. The one from her childhood that her father had abandoned into her hands in their upset, the tiny one from her wedding and the one she had been creating of Tsu-kun, she had slid off the shelve.

She had taken them all to bed with her and looked back at her life and wondered how things had gotten so bad. It was sort of an unnecessary question: the one she needed an answer to was why she had stayed with her husband so long. He was never around, had left her a single mother, didn't offer any sort of communication, barely supported the household and...

The Scorching...

‘That was...’ Aoko trails off again, her face still holding back the wince it was trying so hard not to crease into.

‘I know.’ Nana repeats.

‘Nana.’ Aoko commands. ‘What _happened?_ And does it have anything to do with why you look like someone’s just stabbed you in the back?’

Nana’s throat instantly tightens to the point where she feels like she’s going to choke. She repositions her head so it's harder for the children to see her distress but that only enables Aoko’s worry. ‘That -’ Nana croaks around the sobs that want to escape. ‘Wouldn’t be inaccurate.’

A hand curls around hers and Nana wonders what she’s done to deserve a friend like this. ‘This is to do with Hana-chan?’ Aoko asks.

Nana is half way to shaking her head. ‘Not - not really. I’ve just…he knows a lot.’ She tries to explain without saying things she shouldn’t say. Maybe this is how Hana feels trying to talk his way around her. ‘Actually…I…’

‘What is it, sweetie?’ Aoko asks gently.

Nana licks her lips. ‘I think it…it may be time to -’ the words were difficult to say even when they were building in her mouth. Her heart was beating in her chest and it felt like she was overheating. ‘To get a divorce.’ She manages to finishes. It doesn’t seem like the sentence has even left her lips before something in her core is unravelling, just between her stomach and her chest.

She shudders a gasp as her thoughts go back to Hana’s Flames and how she had almost… _recognised_ a part of that in her, only it hers burnt while Hana was warm. Now, with her admittance of her need for separation, the heat was cooling; disappearing like it had never been. It left her feeling dizzy, with an empty space it had carved out of her, that she didn’t remember ever having.

But then there was freedom, like she had been unburdened from a weight that had been suffocating her for so _long_. A haze was lifted from her mind and she was left feeling…lighter, clearer without that link she had been holding onto.

Aoko's squeals are enough to get Nana to concentrate. Her friend looks like she about to break down into happy tears with her wide, wet eyes. _‘Really?_ You mean that?’ Aoko asks desperately as she grabs hold of Nana’s shoulders to which Nana slowly nods. ‘Oh thank _Kami-sama.’_ Aoko breathes like she had been holding it since she first met Iemitsu. ‘Wait, I’m confused, how did you…?’

Nana hears the end of that sentence as _how did you_ _come to your senses?_  But maybe that's just her own head being judgemental. Then again, perhaps not. ‘Ah, Hana had a lot to with it honestly.’ She admits. She had put up with a lot from her husband but learning about what Iemitsu had been doing, even without fully understanding everything, was enough for her. She had already been giving up too much for this marriage. _It was just too much._ If she kept down this path then there’d be nothing left and…

Aoko’s mouth moves silently for a second. ‘What did he say?’ She demands. ‘I’ve been going on about this for - since -’

‘I know.’ Nana says, feels like she’ll be parroting that for awhile. ‘I…I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it right now.’

Aoko tilts her head like she’s trying to read truth from behind Nana’s eyes. ‘…alright, but does this have anything to do with why things seemed…odd between you and Hana when he left?’

Nana leans back onto the bench. ‘That may have been my fault.’

‘Huh.’ Aoko blinks. ‘What’re you going to do about it? It looked like Tsu-kun’s grown attached to him.’

 _Its been two days_ , springs to Nana’s mind.

 _It's not just Tsu-kun,_ says another part.

‘I’ll have to apologise.’

Aoko smiles, confused but supportive. ‘That sounds like a good start.’

‘As good as any.’ Nana sighs, wishing she could have handled things better.

**Author's Note:**

> "Naseba Naru" means "if you take action, it will become" or basically "you can do it if you try." I thought it was appropriate for not only the KHR fandom but the underlying feeling of this story.
> 
> Anyway, just a quick note. I think some readers might be confused with the whole de-aged thing going on, on accounts to "Hana", but it'll be explained in the next chapter if you want to stick around for it :). 
> 
> Oh! And rating may changed, I've just set it for "teens" until I know otherwise.
> 
> So thanks for reading!


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